


A Knock

by TheBeeThatHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BBC, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Big Brother Sherlock Holmes, Complete, F/M, Fiction, Fluff, Former Spy!Reader, General fiction, Idk what I’m doing guys, Introductions & Chapters, John Watson - Freeform, John WatsonxReader, JohnWatsonxReader, Johnxreader, Literature, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Reader Insert, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sibling!Reader, TheBeeThatHums, one lemon...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 38,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: When Mycroft shows up with at Baker’s Street with a young woman in tow, John’s whole world is turned upside down. Will he survive the introduction of another Holmes into his life? Read on to find out!This work was originally published on DeviantArt back in 2013 and is a very early style of writing for me. I have evolved since then but since it was one of my very first works I still have a soft spot for it. Before I return to writing I am working on moving all my works here and to tumblr to reach a wider audience going forward so bare with me.~Bee





	1. A Knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kheiland is pronounced Key-land. I wanted you to have a name that fit with Sherlock and Mycroft so I made one up. Also so I could write sibling fluff with sherlock calling you Key and you calling him Lock.
> 
> Honestly its what ever. I just needed to write something while I wait for the next chapter of my Supernatural x reader series to form into a coherent shape.

There was a knock at the door of 221B Baker St.  
  
While John waited to see if Sherlock would open it, the knock came again a little more insistent this time, “Sherlock?”  
  
“No.” came the simple answer from where the consulting detective was on the couch, lying with his eyes closed.  
  
John started to get up.  
  
“No. Sit.” Sherlock commanded, not moving a muscle save his lips.  
  
“What? But the-“  
  
“Mycroft.”  
  
John rolled his eyes and sighed, relaxing back into his chair.  
  
The knock came again.  
  
Sherlock, very suddenly, stood and opened the door to reveal Mycroft momentarily before repeating, “No.” and then shutting the door in his face.  
  
He turned to go back to the couch but stopped short as a softer knock followed by an equally soft voice rang through the apartment, “Sherlock?”  
  
An expression of what, John thought, could have been shock and happiness crossed Sherlock’s face before he rapidly spun and threw the door open again.  
  
Standing in front of Mycroft was a young woman who looked to be a year or two younger than Sherlock. You stood, a few inches shorter than John, scowling up at Sherlock with wide blue eyes that eerily leaned toward a soft shade of lavender.  
  
“Haven’t I told you that it’s rude to shut the door in someone’s face?” you scolded, “even if they are fam-“  
  
Sherlock cut you off in an action that John had never witnessed from him before, enveloping you in a tight hug which, after a moment, you returned.  
  
John watched in shock, as he pulled you tighter which caused you to squeak, “Sherly, that hurts.”  
  
Sherlock broke the hug as abruptly as he started it, pushing you back to look you over. His hand went to cup your cheek when he noticed the bruise that rimmed your right eye.  
  
His eyes narrowed and he grabbed at the edge of your shirt, pulling it up to reveal a large bruise spanning across one side of your stomach and rib cage, causing you to gasp angrily “Sherlock!”  
  
The tall man either didn’t notice or ignored you, turning instead to glare at Mycroft.  
  
“You were supposed to make sure she was safe. You allowed your government to coerce her into being a spy and then you allowed this,” he gestured to your blackened eye, “to happen. What are you even-”  
  
“I didn’t _allow_ it to happen. I did all that I could to make sure she got the safer missions but even I can only do so mu-”  
  
“Well obviously it wasn’t enou-“  
  
“Stop.” you demanded in a commanding tone effectively silencing both men, “For once can you two at least pretend to get along? For me?”  
  
The brothers looked at each other and then back at you. Mycroft nodded and Sherlock scowled slightly before mumbling, “Fine.”  
  
He stared at you for a moment with a frustrated little frown, like he was having trouble reading you, and then launched into an array of questions, “What happened? When did you get back? When do you have to return?”  
  
You chuckled, knowing that you were one of the few he had trouble deducing, before answering each question respectively, “Mission got out of hand, two weeks ago, and never. I’m out for good.”  
  
Sherlock broke into a wide smile as you finished, hugging you again, “that is fantas- wait did you say two weeks?” He pulled away turning to glare at Mycroft again.  
  
He just shrugged, “She had to be looked over and be debriefed.”  
  
“You’re lying. You were trying to keep her away from me.” Sherlock accused.  
  
You nodded in agreement, ganging up on Mycroft, “I had to use the puppy eyes for him to even bring me here today. It was degrading.”  
  
“Well your home now and you’re going to stay here.”  
  
Mycroft opened his mouth to protest but already knew that it was pointless, sighing, “Alright. That is acceptable.”  
  
“Good. Now leave.”  
  
“Sherlock!” you hissed, shooting an apologetic glance at Mycroft.  
  
“It’s quite alright, I should be going anyways. I have much to do.” He stated as he left the small flat.  
  
You gave him a quick hug, “Bye Mysie”  
  
“Call me if you need anything at all. Ok?” He said, giving you a worried look.  
  
You nodded reassuringly, “Of course”  
  
Sherlock pulled you back inside and shut the door forcefully. Pulling away and moving back from him slightly, you demanded, “Stand still so I can get a good look at you,” hand on your hip.  
  
Looking him over you note that he is paler and thinner than the last time you saw him, his hair is a tad over grown, and his eyes are tired. You shook your head lightly and he reached over to tug at the end of a strand of your wavy warm brown hair, which fell barely past your chin.  
  
He looked at you questioningly, not having to actually speak for you to understand, you sighed, “It’s a long and tedious story. Later.”  
  
Looking past him just then you spied the bullet-ridden wall. “Sherlock!” you accused, shooting him an annoyed look before pushing past him.  
  
You walked over the furniture similar to how Sherlock did when he was in one of his moods, ending up standing on the couch in front of the smiley face.  
  
“How many times have I told you not to ruin Mrs. Hudson’s walls?”  
  
“Including this time, 118.” Sherlock replied, a smug smile pulling at his lips  
  
You covered your face with your hand, “Exactly, so why is it that you continue to do so?”  
  
He shrugged, “Bored.”  
  
You turned to look at him, “Sherlock Holmes, I know for a fact that there are many other things you could have done that were significantly less destructive and equally annoying.”  
  
He shrugged again and you turned to acknowledge John for the first time, hopping off the couch and moving towards him.  
  
He had decided, in a moment of good judgment, to just observe the entirety of what had been going on up till now, silently from his chair.  
  
As you came closer he stood, taking your hand when you offered it, “You must be Watson. Sorry about all that. I hope that it’s all right with you that I stay here for bit.  
  
Sherlock joined you, interrupting, “He doesn’t mind.”  
  
You looked up at him, “I know that, I wouldn’t have accepted if I hadn’t, but it is polite to ask all the same.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and went to flop on the couch.  
  
“It’s quite alright and please call me John, It’s a pleasure to meet you…”  
  
“(Shortened F/n),” you supplied, “Well, Kheiland (F/n) Holmes, but I prefer (F/n) or (sF/n.)  
  
John chuckled, “As I said before a pleasure to meet you (sF/n). Sherlock didn’t tell me he had a sister.”  
  
“You didn’t ask.” he called from the couch.  
  
You and John both rolled your eyes.


	2. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of A Knock. I hope it's not too domestic.

The flat fell into the same peaceful silence that it had had before you arrived, Sherlock on the couch and John on his laptop, and you went to the kitchen intent on making tea.  
  
After a moment you popped your head around the doorframe, remembering you didn’t have any clothes here, “Sherlock, do you think Mycroft-”  
  
“No”  
  
“I’ll have to call-“  
  
“Tomorrow”  
  
“Can I borrow-“  
  
“Of course”    
  
John flashed an amused smile, shaking his head as you disappeared back into the kitchen. Moments later you emerged with three mugs carefully balanced, two in one hand and one in the other.  
  
You gave one to John, who looked at it curiously and murmured, “thank you,” freeing your hand to evenly distribute the other two before heading over to Sherlock.  
  
You stood over him for a second until he tilted his head ever so slightly, “Is that-“  
  
“Yes”  
  
“I thought we didn’t-“  
  
“I hid an emergency stash”  
  
He sat up abruptly, taking the mug from you, and you left him to his drink, turning to find John looking at his suspiciously as if you had just given him some sort of illicit drug.  
  
‘She’s a Holmes after all, who knows what’s in this…’ he thought eyeing the steaming liquid and giving it a sniff, 'It smells fantastic…'  
  
You chuckled lightly at his expression and gave his arm a little pat, “Calm down Watson, It’s only tea.”  
  
He looked up at your grinning face and then back down at the tea and you let out a soft giggle, going back to the kitchen with your own mug. John looked at Sherlock, who was inhaling the steam coming from his cup with his eyes closed, and then shrugged and took a large gulp.  
  
“This is… fantastic. What kind of tea is this?” He said, looking at his tea again but this time with fascination.  
  
You popped your head around the corner again beaming, “You like it? It’s my own blend.”  
  
John nodded and Sherlock let out a content sigh, “I’ve missed your tea dearly Key.”    
  
You pulled a face of mock injury, “Only my tea? Oh Lock you wound me so”  
  
He flashed you a cheeky half smile, “That I missed you fiercely goes without saying (F/n). I would have thought that obvious or have you the lost the ability to deduce in your absence from me”  
  
You smirked at him, “I simply wanted to hear you say it and if anything my skills in deduction have greatly improved without your influence,” and then returned to the kitchen.  
  
Peaceful silence enveloped the apartment once again and John continued to sip at his tea before looking at the clock, “I best get started on dinner…”  
  
“I’ve got it Watson. If I’m going to be staying here I might as well keep the two of you well fed,” you called from the kitchen, where you had already started dinner.  
  
A while later you emerged, followed by the smell of well made food, “It’s ready and I set out plates for the two of you,” you yawned, “I’m going to go change for the night. Which pajamas should-“  
  
“Any save-“ Sherlock began.  
  
“The blue ones. Got it.” You finished for him, disappearing into his room.  
  
You didn’t emerge again until they were very nearly done, shuffling quietly through the door just as John was putting his dish in the sink. You stood in the doorway clad in a set of soft grey pajamas that were much to large for you, the sleeves falling way past your fingertips and the pants bunching around your ankles. Your attire coupled with the action of using the back of your hand to rub your eyes sleepily made you look like an over grown child.  
  
“Thank you for making dinner (sF/n), aren’t you going to eat?” John asked, turning his back to the sink to look at you.  
  
You shook your head trying to stifle a yawn, “I’m not hungry. I’m just going to go pass out on the couch, that is if Sherly isn’t using it any longer?”  
  
Your brother shook his head and answered without looking at you, “You are more than welcome to it, but you should eat.”    
  
You sighed, “I’m honestly not hungry, just tired. I’ll put some of the food away and then-“  
  
You shuffled forward only to trip on the excess fabric around your ankles, sending you flying into John who thankfully blocked the path of your fall from the countertop.  
  
“Whoa there, are you ok?” He said as he caught you.  
  
You went to say yes and realized that it was muffled by his jumper, as you hadn’t yet pulled away. You did so now, repeating, “Yes, thank you John.”  
  
Sherlock was eyeing you suspiciously, it wasn’t like his sister to be so clumsy, “When was the last time you had a full night's sleep?”  
  
You twisted to look at him from your place in front of John, scrunching your face up slightly in thought, “Three… maybe four nights ago.”  
  
You knew it wouldn’t do you any good to lie to Sherlock about this, he had already noticed your exhaustion and somehow he always managed to figure out how long it had been on his own if you lied.  
  
He stood and steered you out of the kitchen, “I thought as much, off you go, John and I shall clean up.”  
  
John shook his head and you voiced his thought, “and by you and John you really mean just John. Let me help him Sherlock, it’s my mess.”    
  
John spoke up now, as a doctor he knew it was best you get some sleep, “Actually I agree with Sherlock, go get some rest. I don’t mind doing the cleaning, besides you made dinner its only fair I should clean up.”  
  
You exhaled forcefully, “Fine,” and then flopped down on the couch just like Sherlock did when he was annoyed.  
  
John chuckled to himself, you two were so alike yet so different at the same time, it was easy to see that you were related. It was going to be very interesting having you around.


	3. Rising Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So more sibling fluff for y'all. Setting the scene for what is to come.

John woke early the next morning, as he usually did, and went to the kitchen to get breakfast. As he walked through the door you, going in the opposite direction, met him and handed him a mug of fresh tea as you passed, mumbling, “Morning Watson.”  
  
“Good morning (sF/n).”  
  
John didn’t bother to ask how you had known he’d walk through the door just then or even that he’d be awake at all. Given that you were rather like Sherlock in some respects he accepted it, perhaps even expected it, and then moved on.  
  
You continued on to Sherlock’s chair, you knew he wouldn’t mind as you settled down into it, curling your feet up to your chest and resting the mug on your knees. It had been your chair first anyways, back when you’d lived here, he’d only begun using it after you'd left.  
  
Upon waking, you had turned the chair slightly so you could face the window if you sat in it sideways as you did now, gazing out at the world. The sun was just barely beginning to grace the buildings with light and the sky was a soft shade of blue, you hummed contently to yourself taking slow sips from your mug of tea.  
  
It felt good just to enjoy the morning, something you hadn’t been able to do for so long.  
  
John joined you, the plate of breakfast you’d left him in hand, “Sherlock’s not going to be happy you moved his chair…”  
  
“I know.”   
  
The two of you sat in silence, John had so much to ask you but the way you were sitting gave him the same feeling as when Sherlock was thinking and shouldn’t be disturbed.  
  
He sighed and leaned back into his chair, munching thoughtfully on his food, when he noticed the flat’s signature smiley face and bullet holes no longer marred the wall.  
  
He was about to ask you about it when you offered, “It was giving me the spooks last night. So I fixed it.”  
  
“It looks like it never happened… how’d you-“  
  
“There are a few rolls of extra wallpaper in one of the bottom cabinets. It’s not the first time he’s ruined one of the walls.”  
  
Sherlock suddenly threw open the door to his room, surprising John who never expected the detective to be up before noon but you didn’t even flinch, simply offering, “Oven.”  
  
Sherlock gave a single nod and strode off to the kitchen coming back with his own breakfast plate, “Lestrade called. We have a case. I expect the two of you to be ready shortly.”  
  
John looked between the you and your brother, “You want (sF/n) to come with us?”  
  
“Obviously or I would not have said it. Really John.” Sherlock replied flatly.  
  
You continued to look out the window, “You go Sherly. I have some things to take care of today. Maybe another case.”  
  
“What things are more important than you joining me?” he asked, arrogance lacing his voice.  
  
You turned to look at him now and said, “Sherlock you know very well that I would love to join you so you shall have to trust that what I must do is truly important,” and then looked back to the window.  
  
He sighed, he knew that tone of voice, it meant he wasn’t going to be getting anything further out of you until you decided you wanted him to know.  
“Fine, Come on John.” He growled frustratedly, grabbing his coat and scarf. John hopped up, not wanting to have to chase after Sherlock like he usually did, but to his surprise the man lingered in the door.  
  
Just as he moved to leave, you softly called his name, “Sherlock.”  
  
He stopped and you continued, “You will always be my protective Lock…”   
  
To which he smiled and responded, “and you will forever hold my heart’s Key.”  
  
And then continued on his way out of the flat.


	4. The Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write Mycroft so here have it.

You stayed, in that chair in front of the window in the empty flat, for about an hour after they left. Your hands were loosely interlaced with the pad of each pointer finger pressed lightly on either side of the bridge of your nose in your version of the thinking position.  
  
You let all that had happened in the past day wash over you and then the last two weeks and finally during your last mission, pushing all the air in your lungs out slowly, wincing as the action agitated the wound on your side.  
  
The mission had been an utter failure, the only true failure in your career as a spy, and you had both the physical and emotional wounds to show for it.  
  
Though you had managed to sleep better that night than you had in the two weeks since you had been back, the moments of actual rest were few and far in between, your mind plaguing you with memories and nightmares.  
  
You shook your head now, trying to take things one step at a time, and started with the most basic thing- calling Mycroft to get some clothes. You stood and found your phone, dialing Mycroft’s number quickly, and then waited as it rang.  
  
Before the second ring could finish he picked up, “Kheiland? Is everything all right? Sherlock hasn’t-“  
  
“Be calm Mycroft, everything is perfectly fine. I just need some clothes and things.” You shoothed before he could work himself up any further.  
  
“Oh. Quite right. Dear me, I left you there without anything to wear… I shall correct that immediately.” He responded sounding distracted and then hung up the phone.  
  
You rolled your eyes, most people expected Sherlock to be the one to hang up on them, not overly polite Mycroft, but in your case it was flipped. When it came to you Mycroft preferred instant action.  
  
You made yourself another mug of tea and then settled in to wait for him. You didn’t have to wait long, Mycroft’s solid knock resounding through the flat less than a half hour later. He held out a duffle to you when you opened the door, which you took and then invited him in.  
  
“How are you feeling (F/n)? he asked, frowning worriedly as he eyed your bruised face.  
  
You waved him off, “Perfectly fine...” 

 

You sighed, letting out the truth when he gave you a quizzical look, “like I need to get my life back together… but there are so many things I still have to do for that to happen.”

Mycroft knew exactly what you were talking about. His position gave him access to your mission files and he’d done you a favor regarding how things would play out when you returned, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? I could pull some strings so you don’t-“

“I’m sure Mycroft... I-He deserves that much and more. I need to be the one to do this”

Your eldest brother just nodded in silent understanding and you quietly continued, “Thank you for bringing me some of my things. Now something tells me you must be going as you have important things to do, which is all very well as I need to change.”

“Correct as always (F/n).”

You showed him to the door and then pulled him to you in a hug, “Bye Mysie. Take care of yourself ok?”

He smiled, “Only if you promise to do the same.”

You nodded, cheek rubbing against his umbrella-covered tie.

He kissed you on the top of your head and broke the hug, “Goodbye my dear. I will call to check on you soon.”

You gave him a little wave as he turned to go down the stairs and then gently shut the door.

One thing down a million more to go.


	5. Duty and Honor

You set out into the crisp fall air with fresh clothes and a determined attitude, briskly walking in the direction of your destination. It felt good to be in London, to be home, where the streets were familiar and the people predictable.   
  
You had already made the first couple of stops in your journey- the bakery down the street, a newsstand, and now the head quarters of your former job. You had gone in to demand something of your ex-boss, a man you hated and who hated you, and came out victorious and pleased with yourself.  
  
Now all that was left was to go to your ultimate and final destination, the place you were headed now. You hesitated as you reached the steps, looking down at the bundle in your arms, and then took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and knocked.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
John was walking down the block briskly. He had had a lovely little domestic with Sherlock, in the street of all places, and now he was focused on getting as far away from that man as quickly as he could.  
  
His furrowed brows shot up when he saw you standing at the bottom of the front steps to a small house on the street in front of him. You seemed to be thinking something over and he moved to greet you but before he could you rushed up the steps and quickly knocked on the door.  
  
A woman answered, looking as though she'd been crying for a long time, and you said something, not able to look her in the eye, after which she slapped you and slammed the door in your face so hard the windows of the building rattled.  
  
John moved closer then, wondering what that had been all about and whether you were all right, thinking, ‘Perhaps she deserved it. Sherlock usually does.’  
  
He stopped to watch you look down at something in your hands and then up at the door before you reached out to knock again. The same woman appeared, flinging the door open angrily, and you flinched, quickly said something, and then shoved what was in your arms out for her to take.  
  
It was a neatly folded British flag. John’s breath caught, as a soldier he knew that meant someone wasn’t coming home. The woman looked at it wide-eyed and carefully took it from you, holding it tightly to her chest just as you had been, before glaring at you angrily and slamming the door in your face again.  
  
You hung your head, descending the steps until you reached the last one which you slowly sat down on. Your body slumped forward on to your knees and your hair obscured your face. Figuring now was as good at time as any, John went to sit beside you, “(F/n)?”  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
You looked up to find a familiar face looking back at you with a concerned expression, “Watson? What are you doing here? Wait… you obviously had a row with Sherlock and were trying to get away from him.” Your eyes narrowed, “How much did you see?”  
  
“Enough. Who is she?”  
  
You sighed, he had seen too much for you to lie, “Her name is Carla. She is…was my partner’s wife.”  
  
“The flag was for him?” John asked, looking over his shoulder at the door.  
  
You rested your head on your knees before responding forlornly, “Yes.”  
  
“Don’t they normally send it with the uniforms that give the family the news?” John continued hesitantly.  
  
Lifting your head to stare off into the space in front of you, you explained, “Our-my boss at the agency is a bastard. He refused to give Justin’s family any of the benefits or honors because we were undercover when he was…," you trailed off, not wanting to say it aloud, and then quickly continued, "I went this morning and demanded that he be given the treatment he deserves for making the ultimate sacrifice for his country. The idiotic man gave in when I threatened to take it all the way to the Queen if I had to.”  
  
“Would you have?”   
  
You looked over at him, “Of course. He was my partner and my best friend, if I didn’t do it, who would? It had to be me, both to right what was wrong and then to bring it here, to her.”  
  
John nodded understandingly, “Come on. Let’s go grab a pint. It’ll make you feel better, if only a little bit.”  
  
He stood and offered you his hand, you looked at it as if it wasn’t real and then cautiously reached out and took hold of it, only to find yourself enveloped in a warm hug.  
  
You stiffened in shock, you barely knew John and here he was hugging you, but it felt so understanding and warm it suddenly seemed like it didn’t matter. You wrapped you arms around him, burying your face into his chest and willing yourself not to cry.  
  
You succeeded only barely when he pulled away and offered you his arm. You took it, linking your elbow with his, and the two of you went to drown your sorrows in beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK So I know that this is the American tradition for fallen soldiers but as I don't know the British customs for such an event you all are just going to have to go with it. If any body does know, tell me and I'll re work it to be more accurate.


	6. Letting Loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry if this got OOC for either Watson or Sherlock. I had fun writing it though.

John pulled you into a quiet pub down the road and ordered you both a beer. You gave him a small smile in thanks, which he returned, and you started, “So tell me about the case… or your fight with Sherlock… or both.”  
  
You didn’t want to talk about what had just happened and prayed John would let you change the subject, you hadn’t even trusted Sherlock with it yet, you weren’t about to spill your guts to someone you just met.  
  
John obliged, knowing that the moment he’d witnessed before was most likely something rare for you, and the two of you fell into causal conversation about various things.  
  
Conversing freely felt good, it was something you had been lacking for the past few weeks with Mycroft tiptoeing around certain subjects and Sherlock eyeing you and analyzing your every word in an attempt to deduce what was wrong.  
  
Talking with John was different, comfortable even, as he seemed to understand that you would tell him when you were ready and accepted that whole-heartedly.  
  
It wasn’t till around four beers later, after you had discussed Sherlock and past cases at length, that John unintentionally broached the subject, “I’m feeling rather drunk yet you seem like you’ve been drinking water this entire time… how is that?”  
  
You chuckled, signaling the bartender to bring you something stronger, “You forget, my dear Watson, that I was a spy up until two weeks ago. Keeping my composure while intoxicated was a necessary skill, not to mention I seem to have been blessed with a high tolerance.”  
  
You giggled, revealing you were very nearly as drunk as he was, and downed the drink that had just been set in front you.  
  
“I would never have thought you a spy, you don’t act or look like one...”  
  
You giggled again, “It’s my job not to look it silly, besides I wasn’t always a spy nor was it really my desire to become one.”  
  
John laughed, you were absolutely right what kind of a spy would look like a spy, and then asked, “Why’d you become one then?”  
  
Your face suddenly got more serious than he’d ever seen, “They wanted a Holmes and weren’t taking no for an answer, apparently our minds are perfect spy material, and since Mysie was already quite involved that left Sherly and me. So I went so he wouldn’t have to.”  
  
John looked at you funny and you dissolved in a fit of giggles, “Can you imagine Sherlock as a spy Watson? He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. They would have shot him in the face right off.”  
  
Watson joined your laughter at the image of Sherlock throwing a tantrum or calling someone a useless idiot and blowing his cover. You wiped some tears from your eyes, taking a deep breath, and continued, “It’s was only logical that I be the one to go… I was a thousand times less likely to get me or my partner shot.”  
  
Your face fell as you jarringly remembered why the two of you had come here, it was slightly sobering and you turned to John, “I must ask you not to tell Sherlock what I said, he thinks I went of my own volition.”  
  
John nodded and then hesitantly placed a hand on your shoulder, “When you're ready to talk about what happened… I’ll be here ok?”  
  
You nodded and then giggled wildly again, “I’ll be sure to come find you right here, in this pub, when the time comes.” It was an awful joke but neither of you cared and both of you were still giggling like children when John’s phone rang.  
  
He swung around, almost falling from his chair in his search for the source of the noise, to which you giggled and leaned forward to take his phone from his jacket pocket and answer it.  
  
“Hello there, you’ve reached the portable phone of Dr. John Watson. I’m afraid he’s quite busy at the moment, so I must ask you to please bugger off.” You offered the person on the other end, not quite managing to suppress a giggle as you finished.  
  
“(F/n)? Where are you and what are you doing answering John’s phone? I’ve called yours twice already. Why are you with John?” Came Sherlock’s annoyed voice.  
  
You burst into a fit of giggles, looking up into John’s steel blue eyes, “Sherlock wants to know what I’m doing with you Watson. Should we have a little fun with him?”  
  
“You do know I can still hear you.” Sherlock answered from the phone.  
  
You looked at it like it had just performed some magical act, “Oh bullocks. I think he heard.”  
  
John dissolved in to laughter, taking the phone from you and pressing it to his ear, “Your sister and I are bonding Sherlock, she’s quite-“  
  
“Where are you?” Sherlock asked, frustrated, as he was unable to get anywhere with either of you.  
  
“Oh well we’re… Ahh… Actually I’m not sure where we are…”  
  
You bounced in your chair enthusiastically, “I know! I know!”  
  
John handed you the phone and you confidently told Sherlock, “We’re in a pub! See told you I knew.”  
  
Sherlock sighed, “Obviously. Kheiland, you’re drunk.”  
  
Somewhere in the back of your mind you remembered that he only ever used your full name when he was cross with you, but right now you didn’t care, giggling sarcastically, “Now who’s being obvious, Captain Obvious.”  
  
“Just get in a cab and get to the flat. Now.” Sherlock snapped.  
  
You nodded, despite the fact he couldn’t see you, and hung up, “Sherlylock wants us to get home. Come on Doctor Man Watson.”  
  
You offered him your arm just as he had offered his to you earlier, he took it, and the two of you stumbled out to the street to find a cab willing to take you back to Baker Street.


	7. Insistence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this is going so please be patient with me while I try to figure it out.

Sherlock was waiting in his chair when you came through the door. He sent John into the kitchen for some tea to help sober the two of you up before staring at you in a way that you could almost feel his icy blue eyes boring through you. 

You sighed, “Something on your mind Sherlock?”

“This isn’t like you Kheiland, I can excuse it from John, with him it’s much more plausible, but you… What is going on with you Key?” His tone turned to demanding, “Tell me what’s wrong before it drives me absolutely mad.”

You shook your head and suddenly he was standing in front of you, “Tell me.” 

You gave him a little shove so you could move around him but he caught your wrist, "I demand you tell me."

You yanked away from him angrily, yelling, “What do you want from me Sherlock? Do you need answers so instantaneously- does it annoy you so badly, that you can't see I’m not ready to discuss it? Well fine you idiot, I’ll tell you. I was captured and tortured, my bloody cover completely blown, and he came in to get me. I messed up, he came to help, and then he died. I was supposed to have his back and I let him give his life for mine. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is your curiosity satisfied?” 

Sherlock did look satisfied but only for a moment as he realized that you were beyond upset, something that was as rare for you as it was common for him, and that John was looking on in horror from the kitchen doorway. 

You spun and left the flat at a jog, taking the steps two at a time on your way down. Not stopping to mumble, “Hello Mrs. Hudson,” when she popped her head out to see what was going on just as you passed. Autumn's cold night air pulled at your hair and chilled your skin but you didn’t care, heading off down the street at a brisk walk.

“Was that (F/n)?” Mrs. Hudson asked, coming through the door you had left open, to join the boys in 221B. Sherlock, who was pacing now, nodded and she continued, “Why did no one tell me the dear girl had returned and why was she in such a hurry to be away from here just now?” 

Sherlock didn’t answer, still pacing, so John offered, “She’s been here since yesterday afternoon and she left just now because Sherlock couldn’t leave well enough alone.” 

He turned to glare at the pacing police consultant, “She wasn’t ready to share that Sherlock, I doubt she’s even come to terms with it herself. Is your ability to read her so impaired that you couldn’t see that?” 

The tall man stopped, “No. I knew something was bothering her but not it’s gravity or scope. I had no idea she’d been tortured or that Justin had been killed. I assumed that something had gone wrong in her mission, given her wounds, but I never thought it was to that extent. She didn’t show any of the signs. How was I to kn-“ 

“Because she said it you idiot! In her own way she told you! If you hadn’t been so focused on trying to read her and just listened you would have known!” John yelled, causing Sherlock to look at him intrigued. 

“You discussed it with her while you were out… no you stumbled on it by accident and took her for a drink to get her mind off of it. That task she had to do- it was something to do with him, going to see his wife maybe, and you saw. You said on the phone you were bonding and now you defend her to me, do you have feelings for my sister John?”

John gaped at him, flustered, “No, I mean I think were friends sort of… I defend her because I understand what its like to lose a comrade in arms, to blame yourself, and that she needs time.” 

Mrs. Hudson stepped in now to aid John, “You know that, for all your similarities, (F/n) processes things differently than you Sherlock, you shouldn’t have pressed her.” 

Sherlock threw his hands in the air, knowing they were both right, and John went to the door, pulling on his jacket, “I’m going after her.” 

Sherlock watched him go and soon was left alone in the flat with Mrs. Hudson and his thoughts.  



	8. Charm

You got about six blocks before you managed to reign in your temper, honestly you didn’t know where that had come from, deciding finally that it had been fueled by too much alcohol. 

You shivered slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth as you were no longer drunk and you had left your coat back in the flat. Your body ached from the sudden burst of physical exercise, your side reminding you of the fractured ribs and the stitches in your leg pulling at you skin. 

You slowed, not wanting to split them and rolled your shoulder trying to relieve some of the built up pain that had gathered there. Your injuries were more extensive then what you had let on in front of Sherlock. 

In addition to the black eye and fractured ribs you also had a partially healed sprained ankle, a dislocated shoulder that left a nasty bruise, and a large gash running diagonally across the back your leg.  There had been more but it had been seen to and faded before you had come to 221B. 

You knew you were pushing it now, keeping up a slowed but still brisk pace, but there was something in you that couldn’t stop, not even when you heard John calling your name from about a block or so away.

He finally caught up to you, panting and putting a hand on your shoulder in an effort to stop you from going any further, “Wait damn it! How can you be as fast as Sherlock when he’s got longer legs than you?” 

You stopped then, causing him to run into your back, “What do you want Watson?” 

“I want to make sure you’re all right, besides you shouldn’t be wandering around in the middle of the night all alone.” 

You started walking again, “I can handle myself just fine Watson. Thank you very much. It was entirely unnecessary for you to come running after me.”

He jogged after you, “Why do you always call me Watson? John’s just fine you know…” 

“I barely know you, certainly not well enough to be so familiar, and I’m not sure if I trust you yet...” you answered shivering slightly as you did. 

You felt a weight on your shoulders as you were enveloped with warmth, stopping again, you looked down at the jacket and then over at John who shrugged, “Sherlock’s not the only observant one.” 

You sighed, it was hard not to like the man standing in front of you, shuffling awkwardly. You had already noted that he had a way about him that made him so lovable and easy to be around. 

“Look John it isn’t that I don’t like you, on the contrary you are an incredible guy in many ways, I just…” you searched for the right words, “ Sherlock and I, we read people, quite well I might add, but he can detach his emotions from it, a gift and curse for him in a lot of ways. I’ve always been then more emotional one…it isn’t as easy for me to view people objectively and I’ve been burned in the past… It’s made me cautious-“ 

“and untrusting.” He finished for you, “you don’t have to be ashamed of it (F/n). I understand.”  

You looked up at him a little surprised and he smiled, “I live with Sherlock remember? Patience and understanding are qualities that are more than required in that situation.” 

You stared a him for a while before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and teased, “How about this, if you come back to the flat with me you can ask me anything you want on the way there and I’ll answer truthfully.” 

You smiled weakly, “Anything?” 

He chuckled, “Something tells me I’m going to regret this,” and squeezed your shoulder tightly. 

You yelped and pulled away as he looked at you worriedly, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean t-“ 

“It’s not your fault John. I just wasn’t expecting you to… it’s just sore from a while ago. You didn’t know.” 

He stepped forward, “You should let me take a look at it.” 

You smirked at him, “Just what are you suggesting doctor?” 

He floundered, opening his mouth a couple of times only to shut it again, and you giggled, “I was only joking John. Has anyone ever told you you’re quite adorable when you’re flustered?” 

He recovered, flashing you an embarrassed smile, “You do know that I’m still going to insist on taking a look at it no matter how much you flatter me?” 

“Of course. Now come on, Sherlock is probably beside himself by now,” you pointed out, turning in the direction of the flat and striding away. 

John jogged a little to catch up with you and then carefully wrapped his arm back around your shoulders, “So I’m adorable am I?” 

You chuckled, “I thought I was the one that got to ask the questions.” 

“I never said that I wouldn’t ask any, only that you could ask me anything and that I would answer.” He said, validly. 

You sighed, “Fine then. Yes I do find you quite adorable. It’s part of your charm.” 

He grinned, teasing you, “Oh so now I’m charming too?” 

You rolled your eyes and gave him a little shove but your smile was bright enough to light a room and, somewhere inside you, you felt something stir.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have feelings for watson? stay tuned to find out. lol jk of course you do.


	9. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that escalated quickly. This is filler. Sorry. It just sorta happened.

You asked John pointless and random questions all the way back, you already knew most of the answers but it was fun nonetheless, and by the time you got back you were both laughing again. 

“Red or blue and why?” you asked as he opened the door to the flat for you, looking thoughtful. You glanced back at him as you walked in, waiting for an answer.

“Uhh… blue. Yes. Definitely blue… it just seems so much calmer than red.” 

You giggled, about to ask another, when Sherlock cleared his throat and your face fell as you turned to look to where he was sitting in his chair. 

He watched you let out a heavy sigh as you flopped down on the couch, tilted your head back to the ceiling, and closed your eyes, “Why are you wearing John’s jacket? You like the cold.” 

You didn’t move anything but your lips, “We’ve been over this, I like being warm in the cold. There’s a difference.”

John shuffled his feet awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m going to go… tea.”  He retreated to the kitchen to give you and Sherlock some space.

Sherlock continued to stare at you, seeing things he’d missed before- how thin you were, the way the corners of your mouth turned down when they normally turned up, and that fact that you had been biting your nails, something you only ever did when stressed. 

He added it to the things he had noticed- the injuries, the fact that your hair was impossibly short for your tastes, the lack of sleep, and the secretiveness. 

  


How had he not seen your distress earlier? 

You lowered your chin to look at him and he noticed a sadness and guilt that clouded your eyes that he'd missed before, “What do you see Sherlock?” 

He knew you had been allowing him to read you but was surprised you asked him to share his conclusions, neither of you ever shared your deductions of the other, it was something you had agreed to when you were young. 

You continued to stare at him intently but instead of answering he got up and sat next you, his way of apologizing for before. 

You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes again, “It’s alright Sherly. I shouldn’t have gotten angry and I must admit it felt good to say it out loud.” 

He smirked and you could sense it, “Don’t ruin it Sherlock.” 

He chuckled and then wrapped an arm around you so you could settle into his side, which you did, “Sherly would you take my boots off for me? Please?” You were tired and your ribs hurt when you bent over in that way.

He frowned and didn’t answer. You pulled away from him with a huff, leaning back into the couch, face to the ceiling again, “You are no help at all.” 

John came in with a mug of tea for each of you and you whined, “Jooohhnn take my boots off for me.”  

He gave you an odd look as Sherlock chuckled and went back to his chair, taking a mug from John as he went. “Can’t you take them off yourself? Or ask Sherlock?” 

You huffed again, “I did. He won’t and it’s so tedious. Pleeease?” 

John couldn’t help but laugh at how similar this was to Sherlock’s deal with asking him to pick up the phone that was two inches from his head because he was ‘busy’, but you had said please and that was more than he ever got from your brother. 

Setting the other two mugs down, he sat on the coffee table in front of you and pulled your foot into his lap, “Just this once and only because you said please.”  

A tired smile spread across your face, “Thank you John.”

He undid the laces and loosened them, slipping the shoe off your foot before gently letting your foot fall to the ground. 

He began to repeat the same process with the other when suddenly Sherlock stopped him, looming over the two of you with his eyes glued to your face, “Why does that hurt you?” 

You brought your face down frowning, “It doesn’t-“

He gave you a look that said don’t-you-dare-lie-to-me and you sighed, returning to your previous position with your eyes closed, “I may have agitated the sprained ankle…” 

You could feel Sherlock frown at you, “And you didn’t tell me about it earlier because you didn’t want to worry me. You should be staying off it.”

“It’s almost healed Sherlock and I can’t just sit about all day. There are things to be done.”

John carefully finished unlacing your boot and slid it off as gently as he could, “She’s right, it’s probably fine Sherlock. I’ll take a look at it along with her shoulder.”

You sat up slightly to glare at him as Sherlock narrowed his eyes at you, “What’s wrong with her shoulder?”

John gaped a little and put his hands up in defense and Sherlock changed his look to say you-better-tell-me-everything-right-now-or-else, “Kheiland?”

You groaned, “Fine. I may not have let on about some of the other injuries I have. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Is there anything else I should know about?”

You mumbled hoping he wouldn’t hear, “In addition to the ankle...Stitches on the back of my leg, a dislocated shoulder, and three fractured ribs.”

He heard, frowning at you and then turning to John who knew what he was going to ask, “If she’s alright with it I’ll take a look at everything, but she’s already been to the doctor. I’m sure Mycroft got the best.”

Sherlock stuck out his tongue at the mention of Mycroft, “His judgment is not to be trusted. You will check their work and draw your own conclusions.”

John sighed, “Of course.”

Sherlock nodded and then strode off to his room to sulk.


	10. Stuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More filler. Whoot. Next chapter you join them on a case. It'll be fun.

You let yourself sink into the couch, face set in a frustrated frown, “Fantastic. Now he’s never going to let me leave the flat again.”

John chuckled, he liked seeing this side of Sherlock-the over protective and fretful side- that you seemed to bring out in him. He knew that first day that your relationship with the consulting detective was complex and different and now that he was beginning to see the extent, it was hard not to smile at how he was with you.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand, “Is it alright if I-“

You waved him off, “I don’t have much of choice. Sherlock won’t leave me be until you say I’m all right. He trusts you much more than he lets on.”

John pursed his lips and nodded as he tugged at your sock, it came off to reveal mostly healed bruising and some more recent swelling.  He pressed on your foot softly in couple different places before coming to one that made you pull away slightly. 

He looked up but you sat otherwise motionless, eyes closed, “Your ankle seems to be healing nicely but it’s swollen, probably from your little outing. I want you to stay off of it for a couple of days.”

You groaned but he continued, “Do you have something you could change into so that I could get a better look at your shoulder?”

Pulling your foot from his lap and setting it on the floor, you nodded, got up, and left the room.

John sighed, he felt like he was torturing you, you obviously didn’t want him to check anything, but he also knew you were right- Sherlock wouldn’t leave either of you alone until it was done. He got up and went to his laptop, patiently awaiting your return.

A few minutes later a soft rustle broke the silence and he looked up to see you standing in the doorway, rubbing your neck uncomfortably. You had changed into a shorts and camisole pajama set in a shade of lavender that intensified your eyes. You tugged at it unhappily as he looked you over, eyes a little wide. 

  


It showed the line of your body and your legs perfectly and he noted that you were actually rather attractive. He'd been so caught up in Sherlock having a sister that he hadn't really noticed before.

He stood and motioned for you to take a seat where he had been and when you came closer he saw the reason for your reaction earlier. Your shoulder was draped with a large dark purple bruise, stretching from a few inches away from your neck down to a good portion of the way down your upper arm. 

Noting also that your left calf was heavily bandaged as you slid in to the chair he’d been sitting in, he stated, “Sore was a definite understatement. That looks absolutely dreadful.” 

You ducked your head, avoiding eye contact as he came around behind you to look at it closer. It was the type of bruise that came from not just a dislocated shoulder but from having your arm ripped forcefully out of the socket and then continuously jarred before it was returned to its place. 

He apologized as he pressed down on the joint to check that no nerves were pinched or anything out of place, the action causing you to hiss slightly. He continued the rest of the check up in silence, deft hands gentle as they probed your wounds. 

A soft frustrated growl, so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, caused him to look up from his position on the floor and pause in his task of rebandaging your leg. He looked up expecting it to be directed at him but instead you were focused on the lace edging of your shorts, scratching at it and looking annoyed. 

Sherlock announced his presence just then, causing you both to jump, “Continue John. She’s obviously only expressing her dissatisfaction with her attire.”  

You frowned at him, “Why must Mycroft insist on gifting me the most typically feminine things? They are never comfortable and hardly useful.” 

Sherlock chuckled and came to sit across from you, “It’s his way of attempting to manipulate you into a proper young woman… at least he picked a flattering color and cut.” 

John nodded in agreement and you let out a frustrated sigh, crossing your arms, being proper was so… boring. You would always love your eldest brother but at times you disliked him whole-heartedly. 

Standing as he finished, John wiped his hands on his jumper, and you and Sherlock both looked at him with the same expectant stare. It was eerie how similar the look was, right down to the slight frown and piercing intensely colored eyes. 

He tilted his head at the thought of it and then shook it to give you what you wanted, “In my opinion, while extensive and probably very painful, your injuries are well on their way to healing nicely. That said, I recommend taking it easy- no heavy lifting or running around London for a while- and insist that you stay off that foot completely for at least two days.” 

Sherlock let out the slightest relieved breath of air and you slumped forward onto the table like he’d just dealt you a death sentence. 

After a moment you sat straight up, itching at the upper edge of your shirt frustratedly, “I’m going to change.” 

Before either of them could protest or say anything you were gone, Sherlock frowned worriedly after you and John offered, “She’s not as fragile as you make her out to be Sherlock. She can handle herself.” 

He gave John a blank stare and you rejoined them, happily wiggling in the freedom and comfort of a black oversized Doctor Who t-shirt and purple knee length sweat pants. 

In a swift motion Sherlock scooped you up and ignored your protests as he set you on the couch, “Sherly I could have walk-“ 

“John says you need to stay off your ankle. You are not to move from this couch unless it is absolutely necessary or until he says otherwise.” 

John was surprised how seriously the detective was taking his words and when you shot him a pleading glance he returned a small apologetic smile. 

You flopped down and rolled to face the back of the couch to pout, frowning at what was to be your prison for the next few days.


	11. Bored

Being stuck on the couch was the worst. The absolute worst. You hated that you couldn’t help out around the house, go out for a walk, or even just stand by the window. You were pretty much going insane by the end of the first day. 

You didn’t get bored easily, since you were a child as long as you had a book or paper you could amuse yourself, so as long as John or Sherlock distracted you or gave you something to do that wasn’t an issue. The real problem was you were frustrated so completely by seeing the same couch, in the same room, every hour of everyday. 

John was kind, bringing you food, books, and other things to do and sitting with you to talk when he could, but Sherlock was his usual self, ‘tuning’ his violin in that awful way he had and changing the channel you were watching or turning the TV off entirely and then holding the remote hostage. The only things he was good for were bringing you things when you asked and scolding you when you got up to do something.

A day passed and then three and soon it was close to a week, John insisting it was best if you just rested and let your body heal. You were relieved when the next day he and Sherlock were called away by a client. You didn’t even care that they made you swear you wouldn’t leave the couch. You just wanted them out of the house so you could have some much needed alone time. 

Once they were gone you realized being stuck alone on the couch was even worse then not being able to escape their antics, drumming your fingers in the edge of its arm as your overactive mind raced. 

The two men returned to find you sitting on the floor in front of the couch, the coffee table shoved haphazardly away, with, what looked to be your computer, dismantled in front of you. John’s jaw dropped but Sherlock just continued on like it was normal, a slight smirk on his face, you may not resort to shooting the walls when you were bored but you were just as destructive. 

You looked up at them joyfully, “Thank the heavens you're back. Can one of you please get me a cup of tea and then hand me that book over there?”

John was still staring in disbelief when Sherlock nodded and went to the kitchen, “Is that-that’s your computer isn’t it?”

You looked at the mess of electronics in front of you like you hadn’t noticed it before, “Hmm? Oh yes, I suppose it is. I should put that back together.”

Sherlock strode back in, grabbing the book on his way to you, “That would be advisable, though I must say I rather expected you to have done more.”

He frowned slightly at his error and you spoke up the reassure him, rubbing the back of your neck a little embarssed, “Quite right Sherly…before I began on this, I may have… sorta…hacked the CCTV cameras and maybe…remotely accessed John’s phone.” Mumbling at the end.

John snapped out of his trance as Sherlock smiled slightly, “You what?”

You blushed red, “I just… I wanted to see where you were. I was so terribly bored…”

You trailed off, before suddenly fixing John with an intense stare, “Can I please be free of this couch now?”

John just sort of nodded and you hopped up gleefully to give him a quick hug before spinning to frown down at what once was your computer, “I think I may have gotten a little carried away.”

Sherlock chuckled softly, heading back to the kitchen and stating to John as he passed him, “I may have forgotten to mention that it is best not to let her get bored.”

John sighed, he should have expected this but you acted so normal most of the time that it was easy to forget you had the mind of a Holmes. He sat down next to you on the floor, “Can you put it back together?”

You smiled at him, that wide smile that revealed a dimple and never failed to make John smile back at you, “Of course. It should even run better now, since I-” 

“We have a case!” Sherlock interrupted bounding in.

Your eyes lit up, “Can I-“

“Yes”

You bounced up pulling John with you, excited to leave the house for the first time in a week, and the three of you donned your coats and went to see Lestrade.  



	12. The Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is moving slowly. I'm sorry. I promise actual movement in the next chapters. really. I do.

John followed Sherlock through the familiar police station, nodding politely to those he knew. It wasn’t until they were in Lestrade’s office that he realized you weren’t behind him and Sherlock was already discussing things with Lestrade. 

He went to interrupt when you bounded in, “Sherly did you know this place has the neatest shooting range and- Oh sorry…” 

Noticing Lestrade you came to a screeching halt both in speech and in movement and John let out a sigh of relief, to which Sherlock rolled his eyes, “No need to worry John. (F/n) is more than capable of finding us after she wanders off.” 

You gave him a reassuring smile, “I didn’t mean to worry you John. I’ll say something next time.”

Lestrade cleared his throat, “As touching as this is, would you mind explaining how and when you acquired a third?” 

You spun happily to look the older man over, “I like you. Lestrade right?”

“(F/n).” Sherlock said warningly and you turned to pout at him, “What?” 

He shook his head, unable to stay cross when you gave him that look, and smiled slightly, “Simmer please. I know you’ve been cooped up for a week but we have work to do.”  

You sighed, “Right. Of course.” Then looked back at Lestrade, sticking out a hand, “Please excuse my previous behavior, it’s been a dull week. I’m (F/n).” 

He shook your hand and began to ask why you were here when Donovan popped her head through the door, “Could I get those- Oh. Freak.” She spotted you, “Who’s the girl? Another misguided follower of yours? I would say girlfriend but I doubt-“ 

You abruptly interrupted, frowning, “Just because you don’t understand him does not give you the right to be rude. As for Sherlock’s ability to love I assure you he is quite capable, much more so than that man you went out for drinks with last night who left before you woke- taking your favorite necklace with him. I suggest you hold your tongue in the future for I am a firm believer in what you give you receive.”

Sherlock gave you a startled look, unlike him you hardly ever voiced any of your deductions, reasoning that just because you know does not give you the right to share, “Key…” 

You gave him a concerned glance, you knew your brother may not show it but comments like that bothered him, and Donovan snickered, “Looks like you’ve found someone just as deluded as you Sherlock, you two sure make quite a pair. Though she’s probably broken inside if she’s crazy enough to be with you”

John frowned at her and anger flashed in Sherlock’s eyes as he shoved you protectively behind him, “You really are an idiot. If you paid any mind you would have known that she is my younger sister. You will cease any further mention of her sanity and continue with your mediocre life elsewhere.”

“Touchy are we Holmes? Can’t say I’m thrilled to have a female version of you out-“

“Donovan, I suggest you do as he asked. That’s an order.” Lestrade barked, noticing that Sherlock had balled his hands into fists.

She rolled her eyes and left as you tugged at his sleeve, “Lock?”

You continued when he looked at you,“ Simmer. We have work to do remember?”

His face went blank again as he gave you a small nod.

“Since when do you have a sister Sherlock?”

“Since she was born. Obviously.” Sherlock said sarcastically.

You shot him a disapproving glance for being difficult as John rolled his eyes and then you smiled at Lestrade, “Sorry about him. I’ve been out of country for a few years and he doesn’t like to think about it. Since you didn’t ask he decided to keep my existence to himself to avoid it.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to add something that would no doubt complicate the situation but John elbowed him in the ribs and Lestrade responded, “So Miss (F/n) Holmes- you are a Holmes right?- Shall I assume you will be helping your brother on this case?”

“I am indeed a Holmes, though you already knew that as you noticed I don’t wear a wedding ring when I first came in. My full name is Kheiland (F/n) Holmes but (F/n) will do nicely and yes I will be tagging along for this case though he has no true need of my help.”

Lestrade nodded, deciding that he liked you since for the time being you seemed much easier to deal with than your brother, and the four of you began to discuss the details of the case.  



	13. Out

Back at the flat Sherlock sat on the couch in his thinking position, hands pressed together under his chin, with all the case files and evidence spread out in front of him. You sat in John’s chair looking out the window, thinking but not as seriously as your brother. 

Neither of you had moved for hours and, unlike Sherlock, you were feeling jittery, so when your phone vibrated with a text message you welcomed the distraction. It simply gave a time, place, and recommendation for attire and you bounced up to get ready. 

It was already seven, the time given was eight thirty and the location was across town which meant you had roughly forty five minutes to get ready. 

John had just come in and set down the groceries when you quickly skipped through the living room, heels clicking on the floor. 

“(F/n)? Are you going out?” he called. 

You didn’t pause to look at him, straightening your hair had taken you longer then you had anticipated and you were running late, “I am.”

John came to stand in the kitchen doorway and when his eyes locked on you he tilted his head in confusion, “Where are you going dressed like that? Do you have a date?” 

You were dressed nicely in a raspberry colored scoop neck that showed just the right amount of cleavage, black skinny jeans, and black high-heeled boots that went to your knee. 

You had pulled your curly mocha locks fully straight instead of the slightly wavy you usually opted for and you had done up your face with a slight smoky eye, accentuating your long lashes with a couple of swipes of mascara, and finished it all off with a swipe of soft berry toned lipstick over your lips.

John didn’t think the whole ensemble was really your style but he had to admit you looked good. Damn good.

You pulled on your jacket, flashing him a quick smile before darting out the door calling, “I’m meeting someone for a few drinks. I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up,” from the stairs.  

He frowned, so you were going on a date. Why did he find that so surprising? You were single and attractive, it was only natural that you would go out on dates yet he still didn’t like the idea of it. He sunk down into his chair pulling his laptop on to his lap and started blogging to take his mind off things. 

It wasn’t until around eleven thirty that Sherlock sat up suddenly, “I think I’ve got it Key.” 

John rolled his eyes, just like Sherlock to not notice you’d left, “She went out.” 

Sherlock frowned, “When?”

“Around 8. She was all dolled up, said she was going for drinks and not to wait up”

“So she went on a date. Interesting.”

“That’s it? Your sister goes on a date out of the blue and all you’ve got to say is 'interesting'?”

John let out a frustrated sigh as Sherlock looked on curiously, “Are you worried for her John? You are up later than usual.”

He didn’t get a chance to answer because they heard a car pull up in front of the flat. They both went to the window in time to see you give a burly tan man a quick kiss on the cheek and then tell him to call before he ran back to the still running car. 

You entered the flat shortly after to find them both staring at you, you sighed, “I thought I told you not to wait up John…Any progress with the case Sherly?” 

“I’ve solved it.” Sherlock stated flatly, “Your date went well. He’ll call.”

You flopped down on the couch to pull off your boots, “I’m going to ignore the fact that you were both spying on me and assure you it wasn’t a date. Tony is gay and taken for that matter.”

John let out a relieved sigh that caused you to look up and tilt your head in confusion, “Can I ask why the two of you are acting like worrisome parents? Despite what you may think I have a life outside this flat.”

Neither of them answered and you rolled your eyes. Your phone rang breaking the silence and you answered it, “Aaron?” 

“------“ 

You sighed, frustrated by the answer, “Hand the phone to the bar tender please... Now Aaron.” 

You fell into a conversation in fluid French with the person on the other line and then hung up to slip on a pair of more comfortable shoes and pull on your jacket again. 

  


John watched you a little anxiously, “Where are you going?” 

“To pick up Aaron’s drunk arse and drag it home before he gets himself stabbed like last time.”

“I’ll come with you. It’s late and you shouldn’t go out alone.” John offered.

You opened your mouth to protest but thought better of it, “You know what, yeah, you can come. I might need some help.”


	14. Upper Cut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Building up for some fluff. Fluff everywhere. I promise.

You and John walked into the Parisian style bar to the exact scene you’d been hoping to avoid with two angry drunk men and Aaron engaged in a shoving match that was threatening to turn into an all out brawl. 

“Wait here,” you told John quietly and then sauntered over in between the three men. You said something in French to the two who he had to assume weren’t Aaron and one nodded and walked off. 

The other gave you a rough shove and John sprang forward to defend you, but you took care of it yourself, flipping the man forcefully on to his back and pressing your foot to his neck. 

You repeated the French phrase you had said earlier and then turned to Aaron, leaving the man on the floor, “How is it that you always end up some place you don’t speak the language when you're drunk?” 

“Dunno…howdoyoualwayshavesuchgoodtiming?” the tall pale blond slurred. 

John popped over behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “That was impressive. Are you all right?” 

Before you could respond Aaron angrily shoved John, “She’s with me you wanker. Hands off.” 

John tried to explain that he’d come with you but Aaron wasn’t having any of it, you moved to stand between them, “Really Aaron he’s a friend. Now lay off before-“ 

Aaron swung, aiming for John, but hit you smack in the jaw with a forceful right hook instead, his eyes widened when he realized what he had done and your hand went to your face, “Bugger (sF/n). I didn’t-“ 

He didn’t get to finish because you upper cutted him in the chin so hard it knocked him out, beating John to your defense once again. 

You flipped out your phone, angrily dialed the number, and waited until someone picked up, massaging your jaw, “Jason? Tell Tony he needs to come pick up his sorry excuse for a partner.”

There was a shuffling and Tony’s voice rang through the receiver. John watched as you fell into a flustered conversation, in Italian this time, ending it with a huffed, “Ciao.”  French and Italian? He supposed being multilingual could be a useful skill for a spy.

You turned to him, “Come on we’re going,” grabbing his hand to pull him out of the bar after you. 

Once you were outside he stopped, pulling you back toward him, “You didn’t have to get between us you know. I could have handled him.” 

You sighed, “I know John. I honestly didn’t think he was going to swing, besides I wasn’t about to let either of you pummel the other.” 

He nodded, cupping your face in one hand, the other still wrapped around yours, “Are you all right (sF/n)? That looked bad.”  

You pulled away and chuckled, “I’m better than he’ll be when he wakes up, so yeah I’m good. Come on let’s go home.” 

He let you tug him to the street and into a cab where you rested your head on his shoulder and let your hand slide from his, “Thanks for coming with me John. Aaron’s usually a nice guy, even when drunk, but tonight was rough on all of us.” 

John didn’t ask you what you meant, wrapping an arm around you as you let the rumble of the taxi lull you to sleep.  



	15. Two Different Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT:Tony is gay. I seem to have made it a little unclear... When I mention Jason that is his life partner/husband. Aaron is just his spy buddy/work partner(like a cop) and is totally straight.
> 
> This one came out long... probably because I rewrote it a million times. I wanted to get Tony and Aaron down just like they were in my head while attempting to keep John and Sherlock in character.

When the taxi pulled up to the flat John wasn’t sure how to wake you but as he was thinking it over you solved it for him, sitting up and stretching slightly as you gave a small yawn with a soft squeak at the end. 

‘She’s cute when she’s sleepy.’ he thought, remembering that first night and smiling broadly as he helped you from the cab. Sherlock had gone to bed while you were gone, comfortable that between you and John the situation would be handled without getting out of hand, so the flat was quiet. 

You ushered John off to bed, encouraging him to sleep in tomorrow, and then flopped down on the couch, to lazy to change, only to find that, even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t sleep. You sighed burying your face into the couch cushions, looks like it’s going to be another sleepless night. 

When late morning rolled around you were still awake, sitting at the small table in the quiet flat, Sherlock and John both having opted to sleep in. You cradled your mug in your hands, swirling the dark liquid around with dissatisfaction. 

John stumbled out of his room then, running his hands over his face groggily, “Morning (F/n). Have you made tea already? Cause that sounds fantastic right about now.” 

He stopped, trying to focus on the room, and you smiled at him while moving towards the kitchen, “ Good morning John. I was just about to make tea actually, would you like me to make you a cup too?” 

He yawned, scrunching his eyes closed and stretching to the ceiling, “ Yes but you sit. It’s my turn to make it”  

His eyes flicked to you and he frowned, stepping forward to lift your chin and get a better look at the bruise that had developed, “Your cheek… Let me get some ice for that.” 

He disappeared momentarily to put the kettle on and came back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel, stopping in front of you to gently press it to your face worriedly.

You winced slightly, “I’m fine John. It’s just a bruise.”

“Hush. Let me fret a little… I should be the one with the bruise.” 

He pulled the ice pack away slightly, leaning in to take a better assessment, and you huffed, “ It’s hardly your fault John.”

His eyes dashed between yours apologetically, “That may be but I should have at least been able to keep you from ending up like this.”

“Like what?” you both jumped slightly as Sherlock came to stand next to John.

He raised an eyebrow slightly when he saw the bag of peas, “You’re hurt… and drinking coffee.” He added as he saw the cup.

“Thank you for that fascinating, stupidly obvious observation Sherly.” You stated sarcastically.

You pulled away from John, stepping on and over the furniture until you reached Sherlock’s chair, which you yanked to face the window before stepping up on to it to sit on top of its back, your feet were you’d normally sit.

You looked at the cold coffee distastefully then downed what was left, before making your face a blank mask so Sherlock wouldn’t be able to read it, staring out the window as you felt him approach.

“Why did you go out with your friends last night? It wasn’t just for fun.”

You shrugged, “No reason. It had been awhile since we had seen each other.”

“You’re lying.”

“And if I am?”

Sherlock remembered the last time he’d pressed and decided against it, “You didn’t sleep”

You felt the ice pack against your face again and turned slightly to find John’s concerned blue eyes gazing into yours, “Is that true?”

“Of course it’s true John.” Sherlock said flatly, rolling his eyes, “She only ever drinks coffee when she’s tired but can’t sleep. The real question is why can’t she sleep.”

You sighed, they were both going to keep bothering you until you spilled and it just wasn’t worth the headache anymore, “Tony and Aaron aren’t just friends they were the rest of my cell at the agency. Each cell is made up of two sets of partners, ours being, Tony and Aaron-and- Me and Justin. When more manpower was needed for a mission they would join us or we would join them. We went out last night to reminisce and celebrate Justin’s life. They weren’t on the last mission with us and wanted to make sure I was okay and to take my mind off things. I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes I see it all over again and the guilt washes over me and if I do fall asleep I have nightmares.”

Neither of them said anything, “Does that answer all of your questions?”

“No” said Sherlock matter-of-factly.

You threw your hands up in exasperation and John shot him a warning glance, “Leave her be Sherlock. She’s already exhausted and your probing isn’t helping.”

John’s eyes met yours again and there was a knock at the door, “Sherlock would you?”

You brother flopped childishly on the couch, curling up to sulk about the fact that you wouldn’t talk to him and that John had scolded him, “No.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to get up but John gently pushed you back down, “If you’ll hold this for a moment, I’ll get it.”

You took the bag of peas from him keeping it on your bruise and John gave you one last worried glance before going to the door.

You heard a familiar voice greet John as he opened it, “Well hello there cutie! You must be the one Aaron told me about, though he failed to mention how handsome you are. Malto bello”

You buried your face in your hand momentarily, grumbling, "Oh per l'amor di dio" as John went an interesting shade of red. You then called, “Tony, you donnaccia, stop making John uncomfortable. You have Jason remember?”

John let the brunette Italian in since he was obviously here to see you and Tony paused at the edge of the room to look around before clicking his tongue, “When I demanded you wear that outfit I didn’t mean tutta la notte.”  

You shrugged, “The style’s growing on me. Maybe I’ll always dress this way.”

Tony laughed, “We both know that will never happen.”

You turned to look at him, “Why are you here Tony?”

“To check on you of course, bella bambina. You sounded pretty pissed last night and when Aaron woke up he told me what happened.”

“He’s downstairs isn’t he?” you sighed, going to the door before he could answer and flinging it open to yell, “Aaron, you pale freak, get up here.”

Tony acknowledged Sherlock now, looking to you, “I take it that this is your brother then.”

Sherlock rolled and sat up to glare at him but Tony just laughed, “He does that the same way you do, esattamente lo stesso… do gorgeous eyes just run in your family? I mean maledire, look at them they’re like the sun lit waters of the Greek isles” 

You gave him a playful shove in response and Aaron poked his head around the door, “You’re not going to hit me again are you?” 

John came to your side, positioning himself between you and the man at the door; he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. You briefly wrapped your hand around his to give it a reassuring squeeze, “Not unless you give me a reason to. Sherly here might though. He doesn’t take to kindly to people who hurt me.” 

Sherlock fixed him with an intense glare to which he squeaked and disappeared again. You chuckled and sat next to Sherlock on the couch, “Promise you wont hit him Lock?” 

“Why should I? He gave you that. You know I don’t suffer those that hurt you Key.”  

“It was an accident. He was aiming for John.” He considered this for a moment.

“Fine, I will try not to hit him.” He emphasized the 'try' smirking slightly.

John gaped, “What am I then? Chopped liver?” 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that she was injured while in your care and in your defense.”  

Leaving them to bicker, you went to retrieve Aaron, pulling him into the flat and then standing on your toes to admire your handiwork. You reached to tilt his chin and smirked, “Now that's a bruise. I knew yours would be worse than mine.” You handed him your bag of peas reasoning he probably needed it more.

Clapping once, you turned back to the others, “Alright introductions and then you all can get better acquainted while I clean up. Tony. Aaron. This is my brother Sherlock and our friend and flatmate John. John. Sherlock. That is Tony and this is Aaron.”

You bounced over and kissed Sherlock on the cheek, “Play nice,” you glanced around at the rest of them, adding, “all of you.” And then waltzed out of the room.


	16. A Little Bird Told Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info dump brought to you by tony and aaron... It needed to be done.

Sherlock rubbed where you had kissed him unhappily, why did you always have to be so affectionate? 

How you had managed to end up so bubbly and cheerful in a family like yours was beyond him. You had your moments and he knew that the inner workings of your brain paralleled his but it was like someone had flipped the emotion switch in it and it had gotten stuck. 

It was strangely contagious. He found he couldn’t deny you an emotional response when you grinned at him and called him Sherly, even though he despised the nickname, nor could he bring himself to push any affectionate impulses from his mind instead of acting on them, not when it came to you.

You were a white lamb in a family of black sheep, a Holmes with intense emotions that you often couldn’t control. Even Mycroft could keep a lid on it but not you. You just ran about willy-nilly always happy and laughing. You were his opposite.

And now he was sitting in his flat with people he didn’t know, one of which who punched you the night before, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He got up and flopped into his chair, noting that while the view was rather nice from it’s current position he could no longer see the front door, he would reprimand you for moving it later.

John watched his flatmate carefully, and when Sherlock brought his hands up to his chin it became apparent that he was going to ignore the presence of the two visitors. 

Of all the times, Sherlock would chose this moment to not put his skills to use... John had been hoping he would and that the pair in front of him would, either knowingly or unknowingly, give them information about what was plaguing you. 

Both John and Sherlock were too absorbed in their own thoughts to even consider that their visitors were reading both of them, putting years of spy training to use, and, while it was nothing compared to the natural ability that you and Sherlock seemed to have, it was more than most.

Tony broke the silence, sticking to English as he addressed John and seemed to read his thoughts, “(F/n)’s resilient but even she has her limits... She won’t tell you herself, but it was Justin’s choice for her to live instead of him. He made the decision to buy her time to get away and it cost him his life, but it was something he knew would happen from the start. She just can't seem to see it clearly and blames herself for the whole thing- her cover getting blown, getting captured, his rescue attempt- but not a single piece of it was her fault. Justin blew her cover, which resulted in her being captured. He went in knowing anything that happened to her there was his fault and in the end he paid for his mistake and, while she may know that, it’s hard for her to accept. Watching the person you depend upon in the field everyday die is never something one comes away from unscathed. Especially her. She’s force to be reckoned with, both intellectually and physically, but she doesn’t have the stomach for the job. She's too dolce e carina." 

  


He searched for the correct english words so express what he wanted, settling on, "She’s too kind… too happy.”

Despite what John may think, Sherlock was listening intently. It is surprising what you can learn when you just listen. 

  


So when Aaron went to add on to what Tony said, he gave it a good portion of his attention, “Justin shielded her from the beginning, he knew the moment he met her she wasn’t meant for our line of work. We all did. As her partner he spared her from the dirty work, letting her do recon and information gathering exclusively. We always wondered why she was with us, she obviously didn’t like the job, but I have to say now that I’ve met her brother… Well it’s easy to tell why she went instead of him. He probably wouldn’t have made it out of the training camp before someone shot him.”

That caught Sherlock’s attention, he was under the impression that you went willingly, happily in fact, after some persuasion from the government. Why had you gone if you didn’t want to? The only reason he could see was because you didn’t want him to go… and he didn’t want it to be true.


	17. Poetics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last we will see of my mind children Tony and Aaron. 

John took everything in, nodding softly at the new information and also at the things he already knew, “She has said as much a while back… I think the only way we can help her is to give her time to grieve. It is never easy to loose someone that you've come to rely on in the tense situations that are commonplace for those that serve our country... but at some point she’ll accept the truth and the hurt will fade.”

Sherlock entered the conversation then, “You knew she unwillingly went in my stead and didn’t tell me John?”

“She made me promise not to. I wasn’t about to betray her trust when she gives it so sparingly.”

He fell silent again and Tony looked back to John, his expression disclosing the gravity of what he had to say, “I know she will bounce back in her own time but I worry that she will have fallen to exhaustion by then. Povera bambina, she hardly sleeps. She hides it well, but when you rely on someone in high-pressure situations you learn to tell when they aren’t one hundred percent.”

Aaron nodded and picked up where his partner left off, “From the look of her now, I’d say she hasn’t gotten a full eight hours since she got back… and that was close to a month ago now. You’re a doctor right? I don’t have to tell you that that can’t be good.”

“What happened to her hair?” The question Sherlock posed seemed irrelevant and trivial but he wanted to know.

Aaron studied the curly haired man with a sudden intensity, “She fought hard when they took her- she never was one to give in easily. The mission report she wrote on her return says that her attacker grabbed her braid in an attempt to use it against her, so she slashed it off with her knife to rob him of the advantage.”

“Personally I think it suits her better, molto meglio, even if it annoys her to no end.” Tony supplied, thinking about how well your bouncy short hair mirrored your equally bouncy and fiery personality.

“Why does it matter Sherlock?” John wondered aloud but the question was met with no response. 

John exhaled, releasing his unsatisfied curiosity with his breath, and swiveled to look at the other two again, “You have my word that I will make sure she gets some restful sleep.”

They both looked tentatively relieved, letting weeks of worry melt away as they took the doctor’s word for truth with only a slight doubt as to how he would pull that off.

You crept into the room apprehensively, it was much to quiet for anything good to be going on, yet you found them all seemingly lost in lost in thought, each staring off into a different section of space with a different expression.

Relieved, you let loose the yawn you’d been trying to prevent, letting out an airy sigh as it ended. 

The soft noise was enough to pull all of them back to reality and you giggled at their surprise, “Well I’m glad to see you are all still in one piece but what’s with the silence? I rather expected it from Sherlock but the rest of you…should I have given you topic cards or something? Just because I leave the room doesn’t mean you suddenly have nothing to talk about.”

Aaron smirked, falling into a old poetic style of speech, “Come now (F/n) you know our worlds stop turning when you aren’t near and if we should speak it would only be of you and only to sing your praises.”

You chuckled, you and Aaron loved to play with words,  “A half truth lies in your jest Aaron. You must watch your words more closely, lest they escape from you.”

He frowned, wondering what you meant, “and what truth is that?”

“You spoke of me in my absence but the weight of the air reveals that it was most certainly not to sing my praises in pure and golden phrases.”

Tony released an annoyed growl from his throat, “Will you two stop that? It makes my head hurt.”

You and Aaron exchanged a mischievous glance, Aaron teasing, “Does the harmony of our words offend thee my dear Tony?

“Sweet Aaron perhaps he finds himself lost in a maze of utter confusion, attempting to understand what does not flow easily through a mind such as his as it does naturally for you or I.”

“That’s it. Basta. Come on Shakespeare say goodbye to Miss Dickinson, we’re leaving.”

“Aww come on Tony. We were just having a little fun, un po 'di divertimento.” You pouted.

He sighed, “I know but it’s time for us to go anyways sweetie.”

You nodded giving him a quick hug, “Say hello to Jason for me.”

“Certamente. He insists on having you for dinner... You could bring John if you'd like as long as he doesn't wear a jumper." Tony winked at John with a mischievous grin, making him go pale, "A pleasure meeting you John. Sherlock." 

  


He kissed you on the cheek, "Ciao bella.”

Aaron hung back to say his goodbyes while Tony went to the door, you threw your arms around his neck and he pulled you up to spin you around, “Don’t be a stranger okay Kiddo?” 

You laughed, “Only if our meetings don’t always include me rescuing your sorry arse and getting punched as thanks.” 

He grinned at you, “Deal.” 

Once he set you down, you walked with him to the door after he had apologized to John again and said goodbye to both him and your unresponsive brother.  

You gave them each a final hug, “Be safe.”

“Always” they both responded and then they went out into their dangerous world again, the one you were no longer a part of.


	18. The Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I lied. I got up and walked around and things started to come to me so here's another chapter.

John wasted no time making good on his word, “You’ll take my room for a bit (sF/n), you need to get some real rest.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, balancing it with a little frown, “Having a bed isn’t going to change anything, if that was the problem I could go back to Mycroft’s, besides I wouldn’t feel comfortable kicking you out of your room just because I can’t sleep.

You ignored his protests, walking over to Sherlock. To the untrained eye he looked to be thinking, which was nothing out of the ordinary for him, you however knew better, ”What’s wrong?”

Sherlock said it so quietly you almost didn’t hear, “I’ve just learned that you’ve been deceiving me for two years,” he turned to look at you, “Why didn’t you tell me the real reason you became a spy?” 

He already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it from you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “I didn’t want you to try and stop me.”

He was still for a minute and then he asked only one thing, “Why?”

“They weren’t going to give up, even if we both said no, and if it came to that it would be you that they went after. So I figured it would be better if I went willingly then if you went by force. I couldn’t bare to lose you Sherlock.”

He bounced up angrily to yell, ”And you think I feel any different Kheiland? You are the one thing that reminds me that all those people are wrong, that I do in fact have a heart. Without you it would cease to exist entirely!”

You matched his volume, hands on you hips, “That is exactly why I went! If you had gone you would have no doubt been a fantastic spy, but the things that you would have had to do would have changed you Sherlock. You wouldn’t have been the same when you came back. If you even came back at all. You would have lost your heart and fallen into calculated ruthlessness, leaving a wake of bodies in your descent.” 

“You had no right to decide that for me.”

“Decide what for you? The decision I made was my own, you only benefited from the fact that I cared enough about you to make it.“

“I had to live without you, never knowing if you were safe, unable to protect you, for two years! You don’t think that that changed me just as much as going would have? You could have died and I wouldn’t have ever forgiven myself. Did you even think of that? Or were you too busy throwing yourself on the sword in some deluded attempt to keep me safe?” He lectured, waving his arms about.

“What does it even matter, I’m home safe now. No harm done.” You lowered your voice trying to calm yourself and him.

“No harm done? What if you-“

You burst into tears, exhaustion finally getting to you, “You are always telling me to focus on the facts because living in if’s benefits no one. Well how about you practice your own philosophy? I came home. I didn’t die. I didn’t become some heartless killer. I’m here right in front of you and everything is fine. It’s over.”

Sherlock was taken aback, this is not what he had expected nor did he know how to deal with it, the last time he remembered you crying was when the family dog had died. You were 10 and he was 12 and, as always, Mycroft had been the one to console you.

He was more than relieved when John stepped forward to pull you into his arms, rubbing comforting little circles into your back as you sobbed into his jumper. John shot Sherlock an angry glare but it dissolved when he saw the anxiety in his friend's face, realizing that your brother had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. 

John held you close as you let out everything you’d pent up in the form of tears, “I-I just want to slee-ep J-John. I’m so tt-tired.” 

“I know (sF/n). I know.” 

Eventually the tears stopped coming, you just hiccuped every once in while, and when John looked down he chuckled, “Only a Holmes could fall asleep standing up. Sherlock help me get her to the couch would you?” 

Glad to finally have something to do Sherlock scooped you up but bypassed the couch, heading for his room instead. He could deal with the couch for a couple of days if it meant you getting some sleep.  



	19. The Landlady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason I felt like writing again... and Mrs. Hudson came to mind.

Images flashed through your mind- gunshots, blood, sneering men, pain, dimly lit hallways-and you shot straight up, groping for the knife you usually kept under your pillow. When you didn’t find it you panicked slightly and rolled off the bed to the cover of the floor with a soft thud, on guard as your eyes adjusted to the dark unfamiliar environment. 

It wasn’t until you moved slightly and stepped on a discarded shirt that you remembered where you were and realized you’d been sleeping in Sherlock’s bed. You relaxed and rubbed your face tiredly. Your brain had only let you sleep the minimum amount required, around five hours, and, while it certainly wasn’t enough, you were used to it. 

You groaned, shoved yourself up from the floor, and trudged out of the room with a yawn. You lost yourself in thought, mainly debating coffee or tea, and absent-mindedly shuffled to the kitchen, not even noticing John and Sherlock in the living room. 

You decided on juice instead and went to the fridge, throwing it open, only to let out a squeak, and then slam it shut, grumbling, “I knew I should have bought him a second fridge for Christmas. Damn experiments.” 

There was a soft chuckle behind you and you were so tired and still slightly disoriented from waking up somewhere strange that your reflexes kicked in. You spun, dropping into a defensive stance, and grabbed the nearest object, a baguette, for a weapon. 

Sherlock was smirking at you with a raised eyebrow. You let out a frustrated growl and threw the bread at him forcefully, “Don’t do that! If I had had my knife you could have been really hurt.” 

He caught your intended weapon, looking at it amusedly, and you continued, “And what have I told you about body parts in the fridge?! You could at least put them in a container so everything else isn’t contaaaahhhhhm-“ 

Your lecture’s effectiveness was diminished when you couldn’t stop a large yawn from creeping up on you. You gave up, not having the energy or patience to deal with your brother at the moment, and sleepily shoved past him into the main room. 

John frowned at you, “You obviously need more sleep (F/n). Get back to bed. Please.”

You ignored him, stepping into your boots. You bent to pull them on properly and then went to retrieve your knife from the couch, tucking it into your boot before moving to the door. 

John had been eyeing you carefully, “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Down to Mrs. Hudson’s.” You answered, as if it was plain as day, before leaving without a word of explanation. 

You slowly descended the stairs, rubbing you eyes and letting out another yawn, and then gently rapped your knuckles on the landlady’s door. You were thoroughly fed up with everyone upstairs at the moment and Mrs. Hudson had a way of soothing your frazzled mind like no one else.

The door opened and she frowned at you slightly, “Oh dear. What’s he done now?” 

“Organs in the fridge again. Mind if I come in?” 

“Of course not dear. You’re always welcome. Come, let me make you a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it.” 

You flashed her a tired grin, you would never have been able to live with Sherlock as long as you had if it wasn’t for Mrs. Hudson. He may be your brother and you loved him dearly but he could be entirely impossible to live with. You followed her into her cozy apartment, shutting the door gently behind you, and watched as she bustled around the kitchen.

Sliding into a chair at the small table in her kitchen, you stifled a yawn and she turned to look at you, “Alright out with it then. What have those two done to drive you out looking like you’ve just rolled out of bed.” 

She walked over and began fixing your disheveled sleep hair fondly, frowning at the bruise that patterned your jaw, and you whined like a child, “Sherlock is cross with me and John is fretting over me like an old mother hen.” 

“Does it have anything to do with this tragic spot marking up your pretty face?” 

“Oddly no. Sherlock is cross because I failed to tell him the exact reason why I left two years ago and John is worrying over my sleeping patterns of late.” you admitted. Couldn’t they just leave you be? Sherlock was obviously overreacting entirely and John… well you weren’t exactly sure what John’s deal was, you could take care of yourself.

“You’ll have to forgive Sherlock. Your brother missed you sorely my dear. He sulked for weeks after you left. As for John, he’s a doctor. It’s in his nature to fret. Besides the way you look now even I’m inclined to fret. You look positively exhausted.” She patted the top of your head lightly as she finished with your hair and went to tend to the tea.

You thought about this for a moment. You knew Sherlock had not taken you leaving well but weeks of sulking? You certainly hadn’t anticipated that. She was certainly right about John being a doctor and that causing him to have a tendency to fret. It was one of the reasons you hated hospitals, people were always fretting, especially doctors. Catching your reflection in the glass of the table, you noted that you looked an utter mess, no wonder John had felt the need to fret.

You gave a light laugh, “How is it you always know just what to say to help me see things clearly Mrs. Hudson? Tell me, what’s been going on with you? How is Dolores?” 

The woman grinned, glad to see you cheer up, and began talking at length about the local gossip and her outings with friends. It was over an hour before she sent you back up stairs with a tray of tea and biscuits for “your boys” as she called them.  



	20. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's happening? I don't even know.

You were in a much better mood and the tea had perked you up enough for you to be your normal self, maybe not as bouncy but close. You waltzed in the door happily calling out a greeting as you set the tray on the table, “I’m back. Mrs. Hudson sent tea and goodies.” 

Sherlock accepted the cup you gave him without a word, still giving you the silent treatment, and you spun to look for John. He walked through the door just as you twirled, startling slightly at your sudden energy, and you grinned a wide grin as you looked him over, “You're going out on a date.” 

“Yes, with the girl from the coffee shop, Helen.” He confirmed, though he was almost certain you already knew. 

You clapped your hands together lightly, “Right then. You most certainly are not wearing that.” 

Grabbing his sleeve, you tugged him back off to his room as he protested, “What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?” 

You didn’t answer pushing him lightly onto the bed and rummaging through his clothes until you found the shirt, jumper, and pants you were looking for. You liked John and he deserved to find someone he could be happy with so you were going to do what you could to help.

“Put these on.” You said tossing them at him and facing the wall, he hesitated looking at your back, “I promise I wont look.” 

He sighed, something told him he didn’t have much of a choice in this matter, and quickly pulled on the bundle of clothes you’d given him before plopping down on the bed again. You turned and grinned gleefully, “Much better. Now sit still and let me fix your hair.” 

He opened his mouth to protest but you were already running your hands through it, straightening some of the locks that stuck out and gently mussing it in just the right places. 

His eyes drifted closed at the sensation of your fingers on his scalp when suddenly you pulled back and giggled, “There. All done. Now check yourself over and then off to the living room so I can see you in the proper light.”  You tugged him up and then left to give him a minute. 

He looked himself over in the mirror; you had picked out a collared shirt with soft blue plaid pattern and a dark grey, almost black, knit jumper with a subtle waffling pattern all placed over a pair of medium blue jeans. 

He had to admit that it went well together and that what you had done to his hair was rather nice. He pursed his lips at his reflection, why were you doing this? Sherlock always made fun of him for his dates but you seemed to have quite the opposite reaction- you were being extremely encouraging. Why? 

He went to join you in the living room and Sherlock smiled slightly at his new appearance. You were nowhere in sight so he went to grab his jacket and leave before you found something else to mess with or did something to confuse him further. He reached for his military green coat and Sherlock cleared his throat, “The black one.” 

John looked back at his flatmate, who looked as if he hadn’t even looked over or spoken at all, eyes on the papers he was reading, and then grabbed his black jacket and pulled it on just as you bounced into the room. 

Catching sight of him you froze and your heart skipped a beat, you had out done yourself, he looked handsome with just the right amount of adorable. You couldn’t figure out why but suddenly you didn’t want him to go. John watched as you stopped for a moment, frowned slightly, and then grinned, coming to straighten the front of his jacket “You look positively dashing John. Helen won’t know what hit her.” 

You smiled a soft shy smile, looking up to meet his gaze, “Just be your charming self. Trust me she won’t be able to resist.” 

John smiled widely at you and he swore he saw you bite your lip and light blush color your cheeks before you spun him and ushered him out the door, calling, “Good luck,” as he made his way down the stairs.  



	21. Forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> luduluduludulu something is starting... 

You stood at the door for a moment, thinking, and Sherlock looked up, furrowing his brow. He was still cross at you for your actions but couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer, the observation practically bursting out of him, “You fancy John.” 

You spun on your heel to face him and tilted your head to one side, “What?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, knowing full well you had heard him the first time, “ You obviously fancy John. Stop.” 

You scrunched your face up, “First off, I just happily sent him off on a date, Second, I wanted him gone so I can relax without his fussing, and finally, if I did fancy John you certainly could not demand that I “stop” as you so eloquently put it. If anything doing so makes me think I should fancy John just to spite you.”

He didn’t show any signs of responding, in fact it looked as though he was ignoring you, and you flopped down on the couch with a yawn as exhaustion began to take over again. The two of you sat in silence for a while before you asked, “How long do you intend to be cross with me Sherly? I can’t take much more of this.”

Sherlock smirked, shooting back, “You deprived me of two years worth of conversations with you and yet can only last a few hours when the action is reversed?”

You threw a pillow at him, “May I remind you that I was also deprived of your company for those same two years. Dwelling on it only adds to the amount of time we have already lost.”

When he didn’t respond you rolled so your back was to him and curled into yourself, you wouldn’t put it past him to spend two whole years mad at you, giving you the silent treatment, just to prove a point. 

You let out a long sad sigh. You and Sherlock had been nearly inseparable for the entirety of your life, it had always been Lock and Key getting into trouble or having adventures. 

As children, he had protected you when your peers at school poked fun and shoved you around, dealing with them and then wiping your tears. You in turn had reassured him after the cutting comments that were often thrown his way, pointing out the ways in which they were flawed and then making him laugh before dragging him off to some other fun. 

You were two sides of the same coin. One side logic and the other emotion, bound together in the middle by intelligence.

It hadn’t changed much when you got older. You began to fight your own battles with Sherlock as back up and no longer needed him to dry your tears. He began to scathingly point out the flaws in the logic of those he didn’t care for, deducing embarrassing facts to counter the comments that hurt him. But in the end he was always the one who protected you and you were always the one who reminded him that, underneath it all, he could feel. 

Being away from him for two years had been the hardest part of your time as a spy and now he was going to draw it out even further in his anger. You felt a couple of tears slide down your cheek, you just wanted it to be over, to go back to being Lock and Key.

“I’m sorry Sherlock.” It came out barely above a whisper but you knew he heard it and after a moment you felt a weight on the opposite end of the couch. You sat up to look at him, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry you worried. I’m sorry that I lied. I’m just… sorry.” 

Slow tears had begun to incrementally creep down your cheeks. Sherlock frowned and shook his head, more tears by his hand… that would not do. He tugged you so your head fell into his lap and then simply asked, “What is it that you would like to talk about Key?” 

You reached up and wiped at the last of your tears, knowing this was his way of forgiving you, “Tell me about your cases, your adventures.” 

Sherlock chuckled, the soft rumble reverberating through you, “I will if, and only if, you admit that I'm right. You fancy John.” You opened your mouth to protest but he anticipated that, “Remember your actions Key and observe.” 

You let you mind wander back to your encounter with John today and then further back, noting the feeling in your stomach you often got when he was near, the lip biting you seemed to do unconsciously, the way he could make you giggle, and his adorable face with that soft smile. 

Was that what this was? Did you fancy John? You had dated before but never felt like this… could you have just been going through the motions before because that was what was expected of you? It would explain why none of the relationships seemed to work out, that and that you had terrible taste in men. Finding someone who challenged you was not necessarily the best criteria for picking a mate as you often ended up with men who ignored you, cheated, or, a couple of times, hit you. 

You told your brother the truth, “I don’t exactly know what I feel towards John but I will admit there is something there.”  

Sherlock smirked victoriously, deciding to deal with the implications of that fact later, and made good on his word. He rested a protective hand on your side, leaned back, and closed his eyes before recounting to you, in detail, some of the cases he had worked on in your absence. 

You listened to your brother’s low voice contently until you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and peaceful for the first time in years. 

When John came home, he found the two of you asleep on the couch. Sherlock, having noticed you were asleep, had decided not to risk removing you from his lap and waking you and after a short while had fallen asleep himself. 

Shaking his head, John gave a soft smile at the fact that the two of you were getting along again and that your brother had managed to get you to get some sleep. He took one last look at the sleeping siblings and then headed off to bed.


	22. Oops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock revealing secrets may backfire on him this time...

When John got up the next morning you were both still there, it was surprising to him but you needed the sleep so he dismissed it. He sat down at his computer to add to his blog about this recent development in 221B but found himself looking at you.

You looked so peaceful, not like the bouncy bit of hellfire he’d come to know in the time you’d been with them. He watched as a strand of hair in your face rose and fell with your breathing and noted that at some point in the night you had grabbed a pillow to hug close to your chest. 

He pulled his eyes away from you and back to the computer, allowing himself to get lost in his work there. It was only minutes after he’d looked away that your expression completely changed and you let go of the pillow in favor of your knees, which you pulled up close to you. 

You whimpered and it woke Sherlock who looked down at you concerned as your hands balled up into fits, grasping at the fabric of your pants, and you started to shake. 

He frowned at your sleeping form and then looked up, “John.” 

He went to wake you as his flatmate looked over and startled in surprise at your new state. As soon as Sherlock put a hand on your shoulder, you let out a little cry, shot straight up, and threw the knife from your boot hilt deep into the wall in front of the couch, just inches from John’s face. 

As soon as it left your hand, you covered your mouth in horror, “Oh John I am so sorry. I could have killed you…” 

You buried your face in your hands and Sherlock went to pull the knife from the wall with a smirk, “Now who’s the one ruining the walls?” 

John glared at him to silently tell him to be more serious as he approached to tug at it until it came loose, “Very forceful throw little sister. I’m impressed though I’m afraid I’ll be confiscating this for the time being. I can’t have you killing John all willy nilly.”

“Take it. I don’t care.” Came the distressed muffled response from behind your hands and Sherlock went to hide the blade somewhere safe.

John looked at the hole a couple of times, waving a hand in front of his face to copy the blades trajectory which literally came within an inch of his face, and then got up to sit next you. 

You weren’t crying just sitting in shock, hands concealing your face and your shoulders still shaking slightly. He reached out and cautiously draped an arm over your shoulders, you stiffened a little but didn’t jump away, “What were you dreaming about?” 

You looked up at him warily but his eyes seemed to tell you that he understood more than you could know. Your answer came out at barely a whisper, “The night I was caught and how I got that bruise on my shoulder.” 

Your hand instinctively went to wrap protectively around your shoulder but found John’s hand instead, without thinking he intertwined it with yours. You turned to look into his eyes, searching them for any anger, and your free hand went to cup his cheek. 

John’s breath hitched slightly at the gentle contact and he began mirroring your search of his face, looking for any sign that would give him a clue as to what you were thinking. 

Sherlock cleared his throat loudly from across the room and the two of you jumped apart, your face turning pearl pink and John clearing his throat, “Right then. Sorry about that.” 

He looked back to the hole in the wall, “D’you think you could teach me how to do that?” 

You looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised, “I almost kill you and you want me to teach you how I did it...?” 

John gave you a secretive smile and a small nod, to which you sighed, “Ok. I don’t see why not. Lestrade probably wont care if you come with me.” 

Both Sherlock and John gave you questioning looks and you laughed, “What? You boys didn’t really think I was going to let myself get rusty with all the trouble you get into on a regular basis. I got him to agree to let me use New Scotland Yard’s facilities when we were there last.”  

You turned to face John, reaching forward to fiddle with the edge of his sleeve, and gave him some intense puppy dog eyes “I’m so very sorry for having almost killed you. I promise it won’t happen again. Please say you’ll forgive me.” 

John's heart did a flip in his chest and he wanted to just sit there at gape at the adorable face you were giving him but he managed to keep it under control, giving you a small smile instead, “I forgive you (sF/n).” 

You giggled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sashaying out of the room, “I’m going over to New Scotland Yard at noon. Meet me there at one.”  

John’s fingers went to put light pressure to where you had kissed him as he stared off into space with a little smile on his face. As soon as you were out of earshot Sherlock hissed at him, “Don’t even think about it John.” 

“What are you talking about now Sherlock?”

“You’re thinking about my sister in a romantic way. I demand that you stop it immediately.”

John smirked, this was his chance to mess with Sherlock a bit, “I have no idea what you're talking about.” 

Sherlock eyes narrowed, “Yes you do. I know you do.”

“I haven’t the faintest.” 

“Stop denying it John. I can tell you know.”

This exchange continued for while and John was beginning to have trouble biting back the laughter, Sherlock’s face was scrunched up so thoroughly he thought it might stay that way. He hoped it would stay that way. 

He pressed at his flatmate one more time, “Really Sherlock, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” 

Sherlock looked ready to explode when you walked in with a gym bag slung over your shoulder and poked him in the face, “You keep making that face it’ll stick that way. What is it that Sherlock thinks you should know John?”

John floundered, he hadn’t even considered the idea that you’d walk in, Sherlock on the other hand saw an opportunity, “I was telling him stop thinking about you in a romantic way and now he’s acting like he has no idea what I’m talking about.” 

You rolled your eyes, managing to keep your blush in just your ears, “This again Sherly? What did I tell you yesterday about this exact topic? Leave him be.” 

John joined the conversation before Sherlock could answer, “You talked about me romantically yesterday?” 

You waved at hand at him, “I told him that you were very obviously on a date and even if you weren’t people can’t just ‘stop’ things like that.”

John pursed his lips at this and then realized what you’d just said, his head snapped to where you were but the door was already closing behind you. He asked questions the empty space, “Did she just-What was she-You and she-“ 

Sherlock sat down and pulled his violin into his lap. Before beginning to pluck at it obnoxiously, he flatly stated, “Really John. It’s obvious she fancies you. Are you that slow? The two of you need to stop.”  



	23. Knives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whats happening!? Even I don't know

When John showed up at the Yard you were patiently waiting for him on a bench with your iPod out and headphones in your ear, fresh from an after workout shower. You pulled them out as he joined you, sitting down with a huff and handing you the knife that Sherlock had taken from you earlier, “Your brother said you might be wanting this but that he wants it back when you get home.” 

You frowned at him, reminded of this mornings incident, “Are you sure you want to do this John?” 

John just gave a small nod. You sighed and pushed the knife back at him, “You keep it then. I have others. He only sent it because he knows that I favor it for its balance and grip.” 

John began to protest, he couldn’t take your favorite knife, but you shook your head, “Think of it as a gift to make up for almost killing you with it this morning.” 

He looked at it now, a little skeptical, but you didn’t give him a chance to think it over further, pulling him up and then beckoning for him to follow you. You lead him to a room with a wall lined thickly with wood on one half and cork on the other and set your bag on a table in the corner, “You should be able to use that one for pretty much anything but once you get the hang of it you’ll learn your own preferences and pick out your own knife… or in my case knives.”

You weren’t kidding when you said that, producing three from your bag and three others from your person. John watched you intently as you did so. Noticing this you blushed and quietly said, “I guess all us Holmes’ have our obsessive quirks. Sherly has his tobacco and I have my knives.” 

John realized then that you didn’t just share this with people, it was something private that you didn’t like others know. You sighed running a finger over one sadly, “It wasn’t always this way, I used to obsess quite happily over tea… but I guess some things are meant to change. Tea can’t keep you safe in the dark alleys of a foreign country.” 

John stepped forward to try and comfort you but you quickly looked up and smiled at him, “Let’s get started then shall we?” 

You went over how to hold the knife, the ins and outs, and the definitely don’ts and then stepped back to let him sink or swim, “Just give it a throw. I need to see what I’m working with before I teach any further.” 

John hesitated and you took the moment to look over a lot more than his stance, eyes drifting down his form, before shaking your head and getting back to the task at hand. He took a deep breath and went for it, the knife hitting the wall about a foot below the ceiling and going in only about an inch. 

You smiled as he turned around rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “A little high but a good start. You need to follow through with the throwing motion and keep your elbow pointed at where you want it to go.” 

You handed him another knife and he turned around to contemplate what you’d said. He pulled his arm back and you stepped forward so you were directly behind him and pressed at his shoulders and corrected his grip. 

He could feel your breath on his neck as your long fingers gently corrected where he was off and he had to blink a couple of times to keep his focus. He had told himself that Sherlock was wrong. You couldn’t fancy him. 

After dismissing the idea, he had decided to continue on around you like normal but right now you were making it so very difficult. He could smell you, vanilla, cinnamon, and lavender, with a hint of tang that he thought could be apples. You leaned in to reposition his arm and your breath tickled his ear. Every gentle graze sent shivers down his spine and he was positive you knew.

He was wrong. This was one of those areas where your emotional side got in the way and you had trouble seeing clearly. You were still trying to figure out how you actually felt toward John, even more so now that Sherlock had brought to your attention your previous behavior. The incident earlier had left you thoroughly confused, the intense eye contact and thing with Sherlock. 

And then of course there was the kiss you’d given him, your brain was having trouble wrapping around the reason why you’d done that or the fact that you’d even done it at all. 

You pulled away and stood back to look at him for a moment, trying to collect you thoughts, before letting him continue, “Try it now.” 

He let the knife loose and this time it hit where he had intended and went in two inches. He grinned proudly and spun to look at you, “I did it.” 

You giggled, he looked like an over excited child, “Yes you did. Great job John.”  

You let him practice a while, correcting things when you needed to, and then when you felt comfortable enough with his progress the two of you started chatting. It wasn’t until near the end that you asked, “So how did things go with Helen?” 

He had been mid-throw and the question made him falter, the knife coming sailing in your direction instead of toward the wall in front of him. It flew by you and into the wall next to you, you mentally thanked your brain for remembering that when you had learned many knives had gone the wrong direction and that it was best to stand aside.

You looked at the knife in the wall, “I’ll take it not well then.” 

You were happy about this but couldn’t figure out why… You wanted John to be happy and you’d even helped him get ready for this particular date so why did you want to jump around gleefully over the fact it had gone badly. 

You kept you face blank to hide your internal turmoil as he came to retrieve the knife, “Actually it went rather well. She’s just not my type.” He made eye contact when he said the last word, in a way that said ‘you’re my type’ and you went pink.

“Oh I suppose that would put a dampener on things then.” You said casually, picking up a couple of knives to distract yourself.


	24. Confused

You set up next to where he’d been throwing at the cork to throw your own knives at the wood covered half of the wall. You threw both skillfully one after the other, varying the angle of your throw so they hit the wall with one blade vertical and one horizontal. 

John watched you do so. You looked so graceful, holding yourself like a dancer as your body moved in one fluid and smooth motion to get the knife to it’s destination. When you were done you gave a little stretch to the ceiling revealing a small patch of skin at your hips and then pushed all your hair back away from your face with both hands. 

If your back hadn’t been to him you would have seen his jaw go slightly slack and his head tilt to the side, eyes never once leaving you, but instead you checked the time, oblivious to the effect you were having on him just by being you.

You yawned and he snapped out of it as he was reminded that you weren’t completely recovered from your bout of insomnia, “I think that’s enough for today don’t you (sF/n).” 

You didn’t respond, lost in your own confusing thoughts, so he called to you again, “(sF/n)?” 

You turned to look at him, still a little out of it, “Hmm? Oh right. Yes I think that’s quite enough. You’ve done very well John. If you’ll grab the lower ones, I’ll get the one near the ceiling.”

He nodded and you grabbed the room’s only chair, positioning it under the knife from John’s first throw. You stepped up on it, noting the slight wobble, and then reached for it. 

Finding that it was slightly out of reach, you strained and pushed up to your toes in an attempt the reach it. John frowned when he turned from setting down the rest of the knives to find you hopping slightly to try and get at it, “Get down from there before you hurt yourself. I’m taller. Let me get it.” 

You shook your head, stretching again, “No I’ve got it. Just about… Almost there…”

John came to stand next to you, looking up as you went up on your toes as far as you could and managed to knock the knife loose, sending it clattering to the floor. You wiggled happily.  

  
At this point you’d forgotten the slight wobble of the chair and, since you were on your toes, the action caused you to lose your footing. You flailed as you went careening sideways, falling straight into John’s arms. 

His gripped tightened around you protectively and he began to angrily scold you, “Are you alright? I told you to get down from there before something happened. What if I hadn't been standing here? You could have really hurt yourself.”   


To his surprise your response was to bury you face into his shoulder, taking a couple of deep but shaky breathes, “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”  

He realized then that you were shaking a little and that you were clinging to his jumper with white knuckles… you were scared. 

You recovered quickly, letting go of his jumper and smoothing the wrinkles you had caused before looking up into his eyes, “Thank you for catching me John.” 

He just looked back at you for a moment, his eyes locked with the lavender-blue ones looking up at him with a strong sense of gratitude. When he didn’t say anything or put you down, you bit your lip nervously and he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

You had been driving him absolutely crazy for days now, even if he’d only just realized it, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. He closed the small space between you and pressed his lips gently to yours. 

It surprised you but you hesitantly returned it for a moment, feeling a spark that was completely new to you, and then quickly pulled away, “You can put me down now.” 

John did as you asked but was more confused than ever. You had kissed him back, hadn’t you? He watched you scoop up the knife and go to your bag on the table. Why did you pull away and then act as if it didn’t happen? 

What he didn’t know was that while your seemed calm on the outside you were inwardly reeling. What the hell was that feeling? That little fire you’d felt when his lips hit yours… that had never happened before.

You brain started to go completely AWOL, ‘Maybe he poisoned me… no no that’s not right. No motive. Static shock? Possibly. Or maybe I have a cold.’ You checked your forehead, ‘No fever. Maybe he’s sick… no symptoms of a cold though so not likely…” 

Your mind continued with this line of thought as you put your things away, leaving the knife you’d given John out on the table for him to collect, and then stalked out in a fashion so similar to Sherlock that John almost forgot it wasn’t actually him. He grabbed the knife and raced after you in the same way he did when the tall man acted that way. 

You hailed a cab and waited for him to catch up before climbing in and setting off on the most awkward cab ride ever, at least that’s how it was for John. You on the other hand were so deeply lost in thought that you completely forgot he was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor John. What did he expect though? You're a Holmes after all.


	25. Experiment Gone Bad

Arriving back at 221B, your Sherlock-like behavior continued when you swiftly left the cab as it slowed and left John to pay the driver. He found the apartment door left wide open and you pacing in front of the couch were Sherlock was lying in his thinking position, unaware of your arrival and current state.

You scowled and waved your hand every few seconds as if dismissing something and then abruptly stopped and flopped down into Sherlock’s chair, bringing your knees up to you and then lacing your fingers together to press them to your nose in your own thinking position. 

John ran a hand through his hair. That was definitely new. Now he had two brooding geniuses in his living room and it seemed as if they were most likely going to be equally difficult. He sighed and made himself a cup of tea before sitting down at his desk. 

It was quiet, too quiet, for a very long time. John wondered what you were thinking. Normally you couldn’t sit still but now you were so still he felt like maybe he should check to see if you were breathing. 

He was trying to focus on his computer when you suddenly jumped up, startling him, “Sherlock! I need you for an experiment.” 

The detective’s eyes flickered open and he looked at you, you had started pacing again, and then he looked at John accusingly, “What did you do?” 

It was like you didn’t even hear him speak, “Sherlock. Experiment. Now.” 

Sherlock sat up and looked you over, while this was normal behavior for him it was very strange for you. Your emotions usually balanced out the moments of intense logic, letting you think and function normally at the same time. You brooded as he did but hardly ever went manic or got depressed. 

He didn't know what had happened to get you to this point and you were so very difficult for him to read but he did know one thing, you only acted like this when your brain took over completely and it wasn’t going to stop until it came to a conclusion. 

“(F/n), you need to take a deep breath and try to calm your thoughts.” 

Before he could make any further attempt to calm you, you grabbed to front off his shirt and pressed your lips to his, pulling away quickly with a thoughtful look on your face, “Interesting…” 

Sherlock gawked, “Kheiland!? What in-“ 

You waved a hand at him, “Experiment. Very important,” and then stalked off, grabbing your coat and trotting off down the stairs. 

Both men just stared at the open door, you hadn’t even bothered to close it, until John stammered, “D-did she just-“ 

“I’m afraid she did. Yes,” Sherlock confirmed before turning to glare at John, “You kissed her. I told you to stop.” 

“How was I supposed to know that she’d react this way?” 

Sherlock ignored him, beginning to pace himself, “Something you did triggered the logical side of her brain to take over. It had to be something she couldn’t figure out. She’s been kissed before so it’s probably not the action in itself but something unique about this particular one.” 

He stopped to look over at John, studying him carefully for some sort of clue, and then started pacing again, “There is something about your kiss that is different from any she has experienced previously. It confuses her, so logically she wants to figure out why and set the parameters for an experiment- kissing other people to see if it has the same effect- which means…”

John finished for him, stunned, “She just left to find someone else to kiss… and without her phone.”

After about an hour of frantically searching for you, Sherlock’s phone rang. He swiftly answered it, “Kheiland?” 

The voice on the other end was not yours but was familiar, “No. But she’s pacing in my living room. Took me the better part of an hour to get your phone number out of her.” 

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief and then heard your voice in the background, “Aaron? Is that Sherlock? Tell him I need John.” 

Aaron sighed, “I’m just going to assume you heard that. Between Tony, Jason, and I, I think we can keep her here until you get here.” 

He gave Sherlock an address and he and John called a cab. When they got there Aaron let them in and they found you, brooding again, in a chair in his living room with Tony and another man watching you carefully from the couch. 

“Grazie al cielo...Please tell me you two know what’s going on?” Tony grumbled. 

Sherlock pointed at John, “It’s John’s fault.” 

Upon hearing John’s name, you bounced up and came to press a hand to his forehead, brows knit together in thought, “Well you don’t have a fever… maybe it was just a fluke.” 

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his just as gently as he had done earlier and he couldn’t help but kiss you back but again you pulled away rather quickly, “I don’t understand. I have ruled out every possible cause and yet it still happens. Why?” 

Through his slight daze from the sudden kiss, John realized you expected him to answer and that everyone was looking at the two of you expectantly, “Uh… What is it exactly that happens (sF/n)?” 

You frowned at him, “I get this feeling… like some sort of electricity or fire.” 

John let out a short chuckle of realization, Sherlock looked just as confused as you did, and the rest of the room dissolved into loud laughter. 

Tony stepped up to put an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, “Solo tu andresti pazzi che...Sweetie that’s what happens when you really like someone. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘Their touch is electrifying’ before?” 

You furrowed your brow, thinking this new bit of information over, before venturing a conclusion, “So it happens because I like John… and it only happens with John because I don’t like any of you like I like John. That’s… plausible.” 

You wobbled slightly and Sherlock swept you up, “All better Key?” 

You nodded sleepily, quickly coming down off your logic high, “My head hurts.” 

Sherlock sighed, “I know. I’ll make you some tea when we get home.” 

You rested your head on his shoulder and were almost instantaneously asleep. 

“Will she be alright?” Aaron asked, running a hand through his hair. 

Sherlock spun to leave, not at all happy with your experiment and subsequent conclusion, “She just needs rest. Come on John.” 

John obediently followed him out the door and into a cab. At least now he knew that you liked him back.  



	26. Muffled Statements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

You woke up the next day feeling hungover and sore. You vaguely remembered walking to Aaron’s flat across town, which would explain the soreness. Forcing yourself out of bed, Sherlock’s bed, you ventured out into the apartment with half lidded eyes. 

You barely made it to the couch, collapsing on to it and burying your face into the cushions, and then rolled to look at the coffee table. Anticipating your current state, Sherlock had left you a glass of water, two Advil, and three nicotine patches. 

You let out a grateful sigh, grabbing the items lethargically, “Sherly you’re a saint.” 

You could hear a chuckle from the direction of his chair where you were vaguely aware of him and John both sitting in their respective seats, “How much do you remember?” 

You groaned, pressing the patches down on your arm as you lay on your back and looked up at the ceiling, “Enough to know I need to make some apologetic phone calls.” 

You pressed a hand over your eyes to block out the light and more things started to come back to you. You squealed and rolled so your face was in the cushions, completely muffling your next statement. 

Sherlock smirked, “It’s quite alright Key. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” 

John looked at him with raised eyebrows, “You understood that?” 

Sherlock gave him a blank stare, “Obviously.”  

You rolled back to face the ceiling and shivered, “I committed borderline incest, kissed two gay men, and practically assaulted one of my best friends to get a kiss, all in the name of science. What’s wrong with me?” 

Sherlock let out a low chuckle, “John. John is wrong with you.” 

You gasped, “Bugger. John I’m so sorry.” You groaned remembering a series of new things, “Oh bloody… I can’t believe I did that.” 

You rolled and said something into the couch again, John looked to Sherlock for a translation, “She says you’re never going to forgive her and that she’s a dysfunctional idiot completely incapable of functioning in the normal world,” he looked at you, “Which I disagree with completely I hope you know.” 

More muffled noises, Sherlock sighed rolling his eyes, “Tell him yourself. I don’t want any part of this.” 

Even with the couch in the way John could tell what came after that was a string of muffled pouting. Sherlock gave in, “Fine. She says she’s very sorry for basically rejecting your kiss and for any subsequent emotional distress she my have caused you in the events after." He turned back to you, "If you would like to speak to John further I suggest you do it properly because I’m leaving.”  

Annoyed with this entire situation, he got up and walked out the door, pulling on his coat and scarf as he went. John looked you over, you were obviously feeling physically terrible and emotionally you were beating yourself up over what happened. 

He came over and sat on coffee table, “(F/n) it’s alright. You weren’t yourself.” 

You repositioned yourself so you were facing the back of the couch, away from him, “That’s just it John. I was myself. It may be rare that it comes to that, but in the end that strange overly logical person could show up anytime, anyplace.” 

John sighed and tried to appeal to your logical side, “Everyone has their quirks. I know I do and Sherlock certainly does. I hate to say it but he’s pretty much my best friend and if he can do all that he does and still be my friend… well then you can’t really believe that I could hate you over just one little thing.” 

You thought about it for a second, “No I suppose you're right. That wouldn’t really make sense.”  

You sat up to look at him, distress written all over your face, “I’m sorry John.”  

He grinned at you, “It’s alright (F/n). I can’t say I didn’t know what I was getting into when I kissed you, you are a Holmes after all, and I certainly don’t regret it” 

You tilted your head at him in visible confusion, too tired to even try and hide it, “You don’t?” 

He face palmed internally, realizing he was going to have to be blunt with you about this to get you to understand, “Of course not. (F/n), yesterday when I said Helen wasn’t my type what I really meant was that she wasn’t you. Everything about you drives me mad in a good way and after yesterday I think I can say you feel the same.” 

Your head tilted further, as your face went red, “Even after everything that happened?” 

He rolled his eyes and instead of answering, he leaned forward and repeated the action that had started it all, a simple gentle kiss. That was enough of an answer for you and you accepted it happily, letting that little spark inside you grow this time. 

He was surprised when you deepened the kiss instead of pulling away as you had both times before and even more surprised when he felt your hands slide up his chest to wrap around his neck. He took it as an invitation, bringing one hand up to weave his fingers into your hair and letting the other rest lightly on your thigh. His tongue gently grazed your lips and you parted them in response, letting him slip his tongue in to meet yours. 

Unfortunately for you, your body chose the most inopportune moment to express its displeasure at being awake and you couldn’t stop the large yawn from escaping you. 

You pulled away from John, blushing madly out of embarrassment, and the yawn ended with a little squeak. Throughly annoyed with your body, you looked down and poked your side, “Seriously? You couldn’t have picked a less annoying time to do that?” 

John gave his head a slight shake, chuckling at your antics, and then moved to sit next to you on the couch, “It’s just telling you that you need to rest… not to mention that using all those patches at once isn’t exactly good for you.” 

You shoved him playfully, “I’m more than aware Doctor Watson.” 

He grinned at you, pulling you to him, and you snuggled into his side sleepily, giving another squeaky yawn.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re adorable when your sleepy?” he asked, wrapping his arm around you tightly. You giggled softly in response and wrapped your own arm around his waist. 

He watched you quietly, content with your current position against him, and then had a sudden realization, “Sherlock isn’t going to like this.” 

You hummed lightly, “Stop worrying John. I’ll talk to him, besides he doesn’t have to like it… and something tells me once he gets over the initial dislike he’ll find it at least tolerable.”

John gave you a little squeeze, “You’re right. It’ll be fun to mess with him for a bit anyways.” 

He could feel you grin into his jumper, “Exactly. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” 

You could hear the rumble of laugher bubble up in his chest, “Just one reason?” 

You sighed happily, “One of many, my dear Watson, one of many.”  



	27. The Violin Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of filler. Sort of set up.... a little of both.

You woke up feeling entirely better, well rested, no headache, and for the first time no bad dreams. You blinked a couple of times, registering it was light out still, meaning you couldn’t have slept that long then. 

You sat up, throwing your arms up over your head and then slumping over to rub the sleep from your eyes before realizing you weren’t on the couch or even in Sherlock’s bed, which meant you had either been kidnapped (not likely) or you had to be in John’s bed (very likely). 

You thought about it, the last thing you remembered was snuggling into John’s side, which would mean you’d fallen asleep against him and he’d brought you here. You ruffled your hair, still trying to fully come out of the sleepiness, and then went to see if Sherlock was home yet. 

You hummed happily as you walked into the living room and for once it was empty. There was a note posted on the door in Sherlock’s short hand, a jumble of letters that only you and at times Mycroft could decipher. It read-

John said I should leave a note. Got a new case.  John is with me. Be out late. We will talk about ‘that’ when I return.

You chuckled at Sherlock’s attempt to write a note that he obliviously didn’t want to leave, he likely wrote it in shorthand to avoid John scolding him for its contents, and then tilted your head at the date and time added to the bottom of the page in John’s handwriting. 

That couldn’t be right. It put you two days away from when you’d sat with John. You looked at the clock with a frown, you’d slept nearly 48 hours… that explained why you felt so much better. 

You sighed and flopped down in John’s chair, pulling the pillow on it to your chest and your feet up on to its edge. It felt strange to be alone in the flat, the only other time you had been was when you were confined to the couch and you’d been so out of your mind with boredom that you hadn’t really noticed. 

You decided that while strange it was nice to be alone with your thoughts for a change and began to make a list in your head of all the things you needed to do to get your life back to normal. The first and only thing that had been on it previously was simply- sleep. Now that you had done that, a rush of new things began to line up themselves underneath, all demanding attention. 

You were attempting to sort out what you should tackle first when to door swung open and John and Sherlock swooped in. You bounced up to great them and were met with a glare from Sherlock and a very annoyed looking John. 

Sherlock stalked past you to his chair and you raised your eyebrows at John as you approached him. He just shook his head and gathered you into his arms in a hug. 

You returned it worriedly and then had a thought, “He’s been giving you the silent treatment hasn’t he?” 

John let out a heavy sigh, annoyance plain in his voice, “Do you know how hard it is to work a case with him saying even less than usual and absolutely none of it directed at me?” 

You tilted your head back to give him a sympathetic look and he gave you a quick chaste kiss, “Are you at least feeling better now?” 

You grinned, moving your arms from his waist to his neck, “I should say so seeing as I slept for two whole days. I’m so sorry to have kicked you out of your bed for so long.” 

He brought his forehead down to rest on yours, taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t seem to mind the fast pace you two seemed to be moving at, “It was no trouble at all love.” 

You blushed a soft shade of pink and giggled. It felt like you and John had been dancing around each other for ages and, despite the fact you’d never actually been on a date, this familiarity with each other seemed right, even if it did make you blush like a school girl. 

Sherlock watched you both with a glare and when he heard you giggle he pulled his violin in his lap and began to pluck at it in the most agitating way. You and John both jumped slightly at the sudden noise and then you groaned and let your head fall to his shoulder, an action that caused Sherlock to play even louder. 

You pulled away from John and then pushed him out the door and shut gently it in his confused face. A second later he got a text, “Go to the coffee shop down the street, be there in 30 – K(F/I)H”  

He looked at it for a moment, the violin hadn’t stopped so you weren’t appeasing Sherlock… what were you up to? Deciding to trust your judgment, he did as you asked and went to the coffee shop to wait for you.  



	28. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went super weird with this one... sorry! It's sort of fluffy.

He waited patiently for you, taking advantage of the time to relax and let the stresses of the day roll away, and after 30 minutes right on the dot you bounced through the door. 

You were dressed nicely again but it was entirely different than what you had worn when you went out with your friends. You had on a fluffy cream-colored knit V-neck jumper layered over a light gray tank top, that once again showed just the right amount of cleavage, all under an army green coat he hadn’t see you wear before. Below that you had on a pair of dark blue jeans, marled cream knit socks and a worn pair of flat bottomed brown boots that went up to your knee. 

There was hardly any makeup on your face, your eyes very simply lined in with brown, your lashes accentuated with a few swipes of mascara, and your lips soft from a rose tinted sheer chapstick. 

For the first time since he’d met you, your soft mocha locks were left fully curly and fell more attractively than ever around your face.  You looked comfortable but put together, the whole ensemble suited you and your personality to a T. 

John was having trouble taking it all in, nearly toppling his chair when he got up to greet you. You flashed him a shy smile and then slid in across from him, “Sorry to keep you waiting John. I ran out of time to do my hair and Sherlock… well he’s still being difficult.” 

He blinked a couple of times, “That’s what your hair looks like naturally? It looks fantastic like that. You should wear it that way more often.” 

You blushed fully red with a little frown, “Do you mean that?” 

He nodded vigorously and you gave a soft smile and ducked your head to try and hide that your blush had just doubled in intensity, “Most guys prefer it straight.” 

He smiled at your sudden shyness and offered, “Well I think it’s absolutely perfect just as it is.” 

You looked up to meet his eyes, “Thank you John.”  

He intertwined your hand with his, “Now I’d like to know why you kicked me out of the flat and what exactly we’re doing here?” 

You rolled your eyes but a light giggle escaped your lips, “We can’t properly begin a relationship without having at least a first date silly, besides Sherlock still hadn’t stopped with the violin when I left so it’s safe to say we should probably avoid the flat for a bit.” 

He had a wide smile on his face by the time you’d finished, “I suppose you’re right. A date it is then. I’ll have to turn on the charm.” 

You let out that melodious laugh that he loved so much and then put a hand over your heart in mock injury, “My dear Watson if you get anymore charming my poor heart won’t be able to take it.” 

He felt a slight blush color his cheeks as he ran his thumb across your hand, “Well we certainly can’t have that can we?” 

You shook your head keeping as serious a face as you could and he laughed. You got quiet for a moment and he could see you were thinking when you suddenly pulled him up and out to the world outside. 

He snaked an arm around your waist and looked down at you, “Where are we going?”

You tucked yourself against his side as the two of you started walking, “The park.” 

Reaching your destination, you pulled him down on a bench that over looked a busy section of the park and gripped the edge of it as you watched the activity in front of you. 

He took the moment to watch you, there was a slight smirk on your face as your eyes flicked from person to person and after a moment you spoke, “What do you see John?” 

He raised an eyebrow, “I see a beautiful young woman who is kind and very smart but also cautious. I doubt she knows how completely adorable she is or how everything about her is absolutely perfect and for some reason she’s decided me worthy of at least a little of her trust and I couldn’t be happier.” 

You went red and chewed your lip, not sure whether or not to believe him. You had been deceived by sweet utterances before. 

You shook your head pushing all that back down and then turned to give him a playful smile, “I meant out there.” 

You looked back at the people as he gave a small frown at your response, wondering if he’d done something wrong. He remembered what you had said about being burned in the past that night he went after you, were you just being cautious? He was going to have to show you that he really did care about you. 

He set his jaw determinedly and then followed your gaze, “Uhh… I see people going about their lives.”  

You shook your head, “No. That’s what your brain tells you that you see. Really look.” 

He furrowed his brow looking out again, “I see… a man selling ice cream even though it's far to close to winter for that, a business woman eating lunch by herself on a bench, two small blond girls feeding swans while their parents keep a watchful eye-“ 

You leaned on his shoulder and he stopped to look down at you. You were smiling happily and he couldn’t help but smile with you, “Why are we here (F/n)?” 

You looked up at him, lavender-blue eyes sparkling with mischief, “To people watch of course.” 

He wrapped an arm around you and before he could question you further you asked, “See that couple there? The two men. One tall, one short? What do you suppose they’re talking about? First thing that comes to your mind.” 

“Different types of hair gel.” He blurted. 

You laughed, “Perfect! Look now he’s telling his companion that he likes a rival brand and that simply won’t do.” 

John watched as one of the men held a hand to his chest dramatically and then walked off in a huff before dissolving in to laugher.    
When he calmed your eyes were searching the park again, “There that woman. The one with the rather large hat. What do you think her morning was like?” 

John looked at her for a second, “Most likely getting a small crane to put that thing on her head and having a bunch of physicists calculate exactly how to keep her from falling over.” 

You snickered and gave him a playful shove. He looked at you for a moment before spying a little girl in really poufy pink dress bouncing along next to her very tired looking mother, “Your turn. That pair there. The mother and daughter.” 

You tilted your head, “I think she woke up this morning and yelled mummy I want to look like a giant sparkly pink cupcake today!” 

He laughed as you leaned against him with a small content hum and then he kissed the top of your head, “This is entertaining but why are we doing it exactly?” 

“For the most part because it's entertaining but also because in no way do we have to be right about anything. We can observe but it’s our imagination that draws the conclusion not logic.” 

“Hmmm” he rang out contemplatively. 

You tilted your head up to look at him, “When you look at the world in terms of only what is instead of what could be life loses its magic. It may seem simple, rude even, but doing this reminds me of that.” 

He looked out again, this was your way of showing him a small part of how you see things, your way of welcoming him into your life and your world. He tightened the hand around your shoulder and continued your little game, pointing out another person. He knew he was going to have to earn your trust little by little but this was a fantastic start.  



	29. Elder Brother Issue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sort but eh... whateves.

While you and John were out on your little date in the park, Sherlock got a visit from Mycroft and for the first time he was actually glad for it. Not that he would show it. 

Mycroft was now sitting in the chair across from him, “How long have you known about this… this thing between them?” 

Sherlock was difficult as always, “Since it became obvious of course.” 

Mycroft sighed he wasn’t going to get much more out of him so he moved on, “This is a distraction for both of them, not to mention she should not romantically cavort around with those beneath her station. I shall have to end it immediately.” 

Sherlock answered flatly, “I agree with your conclusion but only part of your reasoning. I need their full attention on cases and, more importantly, I don’t want to see her hurt again.” 

Mycroft tilted his head, “You think John would harm her? You yourself welcomed him into your life… in a way you practically picked him for her.” 

Sherlock glared at his brother for placing the blame on him, “I did nothing of the sort.” He closed his eyes to think again, “She choose John all on her own and I doubt that was even her intent.”

Mycroft thought this over before asking again, worriedly, “Why do you think John will hurt her?”

Sherlock was quick to reply, “Because they all hurt her. You know as well as I do Mycroft that every relationship she’s ever been in has ended badly. More specifically, with her in tears on your couch consuming copious amounts of ice cream, with months of complete distrust of every male person in her life, or, as in those few nightmarish occurrences, with you and I picking her up from the hospital.” 

Mycroft sighed heavily at the memories of those times before countering, “I doubt that John would hurt her in that way. I believe that one of the very reasons she was drawn to him in the first place is his gentle nature. In fact John is distinctly different from any of the men she’s dated previously” 

“Are you referring to her little experiment?” 

“No. Though that is troubling. What was her conclusion exactly?” 

“That there is a feeling she’s never felt before that happens only when John kisses her and it stems from the fact that she fancies him.”  

Sherlock sprang up to pace, “John is different in that not only is his character completely different from those she normally fancies but that he seems to have a physical effect on her as well. I believe you are right. He would not hurt her. In fact it is possible that removing him from her as we plan to may…” he paused as he seemed to come to a realization, “it may do more harm than just letting it run it’s course.” 

Mycroft nodded in agreement, having come to the same conclusion just moments before Sherlock, “I agree.” 

He looked down at his phone and the pictures of you and John in the park that had been sent to him by one of his underlings a few minutes ago, “And she does seem quite happy with him. In the end shouldn’t that be what we care about?” 

Sherlock gave a slight nod and added, “But the moment she becomes anything but that-“ 

“There will be consequences for him.” Mycroft finished ominously. 

Sherlock turned to glare at his brother, “Now that we are in agreement, Leave.”  



	30. Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK GUYS CHAPTER 30 AND IT'S EVER SO FLUFFY.

You came back arm and arm with John just as it was beginning get dark, approaching the flat cautiously, but all was quiet. You gave a little yawn as you followed him up the stairs and he looked back at you worriedly, “Are you feeling alright? Maybe we should take it easy until your fully recovered.” 

Pulling him to you as you reached the top of the stairs, you gave him a little smirk, “Stop fretting John. I’m tired yes, but rightfully so. It’s getting late.” 

He reached up and tugged at one of the curls in your face causing it to bounce, “I’ll fret as just as much as I please. I am a doctor you know.” 

There was a playful grin on his face as he finished and you poked his chest lightly, “Well then Doctor Watson… is it true that a kiss makes it all better?” 

He grinned, “Hmm it might. Is there something I should take a look at?” 

You feigned distress, “Well you see I have this pain here,” you pointed to your temple, “that I just can’t seem to get rid of.” 

He leaned in and brushed his lips against it gently, “Better?” 

  


You frowned, “It would seem so but now it hurts here.” 

You pointed to your nose and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on it, “Anywhere else?” 

You nodded with mock seriousness and pointed to your cheek and then to your forehead and then to the line of your jaw and each time John brushed his lips over the ‘”injured” area. 

He finished kissing the side of your neck and quietly asked, “It seems you have many injuries. It’s a good thing you came to me Miss Holmes. Now I’ll ask you again is there anywhere else you feel pain?” 

You tried to keep yourself from grinning as you brought up a finger and placed it on your lips, “Right here hurts ever so terribly Doctor Watson.” 

He chuckled, “Well let me see what I can do about that then.” 

His lips met yours in a slow and incredibly gentle kiss, each of you taking the time to fully appreciate the feel of the other until you both needed air. You took in the much needed air sharply as he slipped off your lower lip with a deep “hmm” before pulling you to him with a soft grin, “All better?” 

You had just begun to answer, “Well…,” when the door to the flat swung open to reveal Sherlock giving you an unamused look, “Oh for God’s sake will you two come inside already.” 

You giggled happily, sharing a pleased glance with John before gently taking his hand in yours and leading him into the flat, and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Now that you were inside Sherlock shut the door and flopped on the couch just as John asked, “Now where were we?” 

You grinned widely, knowing he was trying to mess with Sherlock a little, and responded, “Well doctor, I believe you were about to give me a second dose for the pain in my lips.” 

He released a deep chuckle as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours again, with a bit more fire this time. You responded, smirking into it before pulling away from him ever so slightly, “John I need to make dinner.” 

He leaned his forehead on yours, “Right. Shall I help you?” 

You gave your head a slight shake, “I can manage.” 

He gave you one last peck on the lips before you pulled away from him entirely to disappear into the kitchen and then turned to enjoy the look of complete annoyance on Sherlock’s face. 

John grinned at him happily, starting to make his way to his computer, when there was a frustrated growl-yell from the kitchen, “I sleep for two days and the two of you can’t be bothered to keep the kitchen at least partially stocked?” 

You appeared in the doorway and pointed at Sherlock, “You I expect it from, but John…” 

You just shook your head grumbling “Men. Living like wild animals in a dirty house with no food, can’t even be bothered to clean their dish or pick up their own mess,” as you pulled on the jacket you’d only just removed. 

John’s brows furrowed, “You aren’t going out now are you? It’s practically dark out.” 

You leveled him with a glare that made Sherlock smirk slightly, “Well since no one did the shopping it seems I have no other choice.”

John bounced up, “I’ll go.” 

You leaned over to pull up your socks and boots from where they had ridden down, “Need I remind you John that I am perfectly capable of protecting myself?” 

He was already pulling on his coat, “I know you are but that still doesn’t mean I like the idea of you walking around at night on your own.” 

You turned to face him and he placed a hand on your hip and gazed into your eyes, “Please. Let me go.” 

You sighed, his adorable little face breaking down the anger from just moments before, “Fine. Just… be safe.” 

You tugged at the front of his jacket straightening it and he cupped your cheek to pull you in for a quick kiss before giving you a soft smile, “I promise I’ll be safe.” 

You blushed slightly and then shooed him out the door, “Alright then, off you go.” 

You had a wide smile on your face as you went to poke your brother so he’d share the couch with you, “So had a visit from Mycroft did you?” 

  


Sherlock rolled to face the back of the couch, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

You chuckled, “Yeah well I didn’t want to listen to your violin ‘tuning’ for a half hour but that didn’t stop you from doing it. How is he?”

“Fine.” You poked your brother in the side to get him to give you the truth and Sherlock sighed, it was times like these he wished your brain wasn’t like his and that he could easily deceive you, “He’s worried.” 

You tilted your head, “And you?”

Sherlock sat up very abruptly to stare at you, “You could do much worse than John. I may not necessarily approve but out of all the potential mates you’ve chosen he is the least likely to harm you in anyway. Though I’ll warn you Key if he does I will not take it lightly.”

You lightly kissed the top of your brother’s bent knee before giving it a pat and standing, “Understood.”


	31. The Warehouse

John was walking home with the shopping when a familiar black car pulled up next to him. He sighed and looked to the sky as the window rolled down and the woman inside said, “get in.” He briefly wondered if he had a choice, hung his head when he realized he probably didn’t, and then got in. Off to the warehouse. Again.

Mycroft was calm as usual, leaning against his ever-present umbrella, and John gave him an unamused look, “You know the warehouse bit is getting old.”

The man seemed to be studying him much more carefully than he ever had before and answered, “You are here as a courtesy John.”

“Really? Picked up on my way home from the shop is a courtesy?” John countered sarcastically.

Ignoring John, Mycroft flicked his umbrella around a couple of times as he began, “I have noticed that you have taken an interest in my sister.”

“And you want me to stop.” John supplied, he couldn’t say this was unexpected.

Mycroft stared at him, “No actually. Sherlock and I agreed that would be a rather… sticky… course of action. It is so difficult to anticipate how Kheiland will react… if only she was more detached. Caring as she does puts the entire family at a disadvantage. But that is neither here nor there. You are here because there are things you should know. Consequences you should consider.”

John looked at him expectantly, ready to receive what ever ominous nonsense he was sure to be leveled with, and Mycroft continued, “I have striven in my life and my career to make sure that I have no weaknesses, rather successfully I might add, but if I ever did have one it would be Kheiland and my affection towards her. I’m sure you have already noted a similar fact regarding Sherlock’s attachment to her as well. If something were to happen to her, well lets just say it is one of the few things he and I agree on and our actions would be swift and without mercy.”

John pursed his lips, “You’re worried I’ll hurt her.”

Mycroft gave a small smile and even that managed to look sinister, “I do worry so very much about her, as one should with family, and in the past I’m afraid I may have shirked my duties as an elder brother. A mistake on my part that put her through quite a bit of grief and while I’m inclined to believe that you would never intentionally harm her, I must do my due diligence. ”

“So this is the older brother if-you-hurt-her-I’ll-come-after-you talk?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mycroft swooped forward so he was just inches from John’s face, “I’m afraid it’s much more serious than that. Should you cause her harm in anyway, I will end you.” He emphasized the last four words with little pauses in between each one.

He backed away, “I am not an enemy you want to have Doctor Watson and I am confident in saying that neither is Sherlock.”

John just nodded with a small shrug, refusing to let himself be intimidated, “Right then. Can I go now?”

Mycroft nodded, “Yes. I believe that would-“ he was abruptly cut off by his phone ringing, the annoying pop song ringtone you’d set to play when you called echoing off of the vast warehouse walls. 

He looked mildly annoyed before quickly answering it, “Hello dear.”

When John didn’t come home when you expected him to, you began to fret that something may have happened to him and in your worry you’d come to a thoroughly annoying conclusion: Mycroft.

“Mycroft Holmes you return John to this flat immediately.” You demanded as soon as he picked up the phone.

“We were just having a little talk Kheiland. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Right. A little talk in your foreboding empty warehouse. I’m sure it’s all sunshine and daisies.” You spat back sarcastically, your voice loud enough that John could hear from where he stood causing him to give a little chuckle.

Mycroft went to respond but you cut him off, “Save it. I am not a child anymore Mycroft. I know exactly what you are doing and it ends now.”

“Khei-“

“NO. You are going to stop threatening John this very moment and never attempt to do so again or there will be consequences. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” 

A look of what John imagined was fear flashed across Mycroft’s face before he pursed his lips, “As crystal.”

“Good. Now you will personally bring John home and help him bring the shopping up to the flat within the next 15 minutes or I will tell Sherlock what really happened that time we were playing in the garden.”

Mycroft paled slightly, “We shall be there shortly.”

He hung up and turned to John, sheepishly reporting, “I’m to take you home and help you with the shopping.”

Mycroft glared at John when he let out a short chuckle over the fact that you knew exactly how to handle your brothers, “Well we best get to it then and not keep her waiting.”

“Indeed.” He responded with a frown and led John to the car.

Before they got in, he stopped, “There is one last thing you should know John. She has been hurt in the past due to her inability to see things as clearly as she should when it comes to matters of the heart. For that reason my sister does not trust freely, her cheerful nature may belie that fact but it is true. It will be a difficult, if not impossible, task to break through enough to where she will trust you.”

John gave him a determined nod, “I’m aware. She’s worth it.”

Mycroft seemed soothed by this and they spent the rest of the way home in silence.


	32. Language of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is a lemon. Just so y'all know. and then Moriarty drama. because I can. If you don't want to read smut skip to 34 after this chapter.

You met them at the outer door when they arrived circling around John hurriedly to look him over before thwacking Mycroft across the back of the head, “Sherlock may not care about you abducting people out of his life to intimidate them but I’ve told you time and time again that I do. It’s a wonder I have any friends at all between you and him.” 

Spinning to take John’s face in your hands, you tumbled, “I’m so sorry John. I shouldn’t have let you go or I should have gone with you. Whatever he said… well actually it's probably true.”

You pulled away from him to look at the floor, quiet for a moment at that realization, “This was a bad idea. It’s a marvel you manage with Sherlock as a friend. I can’t possibly expect you to put up with both my brothers as my boyfriend nor do I think you would you want to.” 

You mussed your short hair forward with a sweep of your hand, “It’s alright. I’ve been meaning to look for my own place anyway.” 

John was thoroughly confused, “What are you talking about?” 

Mycroft frowned at you, “She thinks that you don’t want to get involved with her because of how Sherlock and I have behaved. Why did you not tell me you wanted to find a place of your own? I could have arranged-” 

“Wait just a minute, Why would you think that (F/n)?”  John demanded.

“My eldest brother just abducted and threatened you in a remote warehouse and my other brother, your best friend, just spent nearly three days giving you the silent treatment over me. Why wouldn’t I think that?” You countered quietly.

You looked up at Mycroft, “I’ve already phoned Anna to ask to if I can stay in her studio space for a bit. I’d prefer to find my own-“

“No.” 

You looked at John with a raised eyebrow in the same fashion as all the Holmes’ did, lavender-blue eyes clouded with a number of different emotions.

His tone was exasperated as he ranted, “Damn it (F/n) you’re so bloody brilliant but at the same time so completely ignorant. I don’t sodding care if your brothers are completely mental. I knew that long before I even knew you existed. I will not have you disappearing out of my life when I’ve just managed to bring you into it.” 

He pulled you to him in one swift motion and caught your lips with his, a firm hand on your cheek, before parting to look you in the eyes, “Stop assuming things.”

John wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible and glared at Mycroft, pointing at him with the other hand, “This is your fault so you can carry the shopping up all on your own.”

He gently pulled you up the stairs, Mycroft unhappily following the two of you, and didn’t let go until you were all in the flat. You hesitated slightly when he did and then pulled him to you, murmuring, “I was worried.”

He kissed the top of your head, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Sherlock glared at Mycroft,  “Was abducting John really necessary?”

Mycroft just shrugged before taking the shopping to the kitchen and you suddenly spun, pulled Sherlock up out of his chair and draged him over to grab Mycroft with your other hand. 

You yanked the two of them to the door and then shoved them out, “Since you two enjoy plotting things behind my back so much you can have the entire night to do so.” 

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but you shoved a finger in his face, “You are not to come back until tomorrow. I suggest you stay with Mycroft. Bond a little.” 

Before either of them could voice their displeasure at this turn of events you shut the door in their faces and locked it with a finalizing click. You spun to look at a bewildered John with a shy but concerned smile, “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

He nodded, offering you a hand, you took it and he pulled you to him with a chuckle, “You, love, are a force to be reckoned with. Now how about dinner?”

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck so that your lips brushed against his skin as you responded, “Come help me cook,” before pulling him along behind you to the kitchen.

The next hour or so had you sitting on the kitchen table as John finished cooking some stuff on the stove, drinking your third glass of red wine. Between the two of you, you had made a very nice meal as well as pretty much finished the bottle of Merlot you had stashed away for a rainy day. You sipped at your wine, giggling as John got a little fancy with sautéing the vegetables, “We make a good team.”

He flicked off the stove and came over to kiss you, resting his hands on your hips, “That we do.”

He turned back to his work and you slid of the table to stand next to him, your face suddenly serious, “John?”

“Hmm?” he hummed in response.

“I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships… but I want you to know that as long as you want this- between us I mean- I’m willing to try and make it work. I’ve never felt this way about someone before and no one has ever treated me like you do… not in a romantic sense anyways. What I’m trying to say is-“

You found yourself unable to continue your little babbling session because your lips were suddenly occupied by an insistent kiss. John stayed only long enough to silence you and then pulled away, turning back to the cooking causally. You smiled, pressing your fingers to your lips, “That was a much better way of saying it.”

“I thought so too. Now sit.” he said with a fond smile, grabbing a couple of plates.

You did as you were told and shortly after John placed a plate in front of you, then sat down with his own plate, and you raised a glass with a coy smile, softly offering, “À votre santé.” 

He gave you a quizzical look, raising his glass to clink against yours as you sheepishly translated, “Cheers.”

You chatted and laughed as you ate, the hours passing you by as you enjoyed each other’s company. When you had eaten your fill, John swirled what was left of his wine around in his glass and put a voice to the thought he’d been having for a long while, “You speak both Italian and French… did you learn for your job?”

You chuckled, “In a way yes, but not the one you are referring to. I used to be a personal stylist. One of the best. It was helpful to know at least the basics of the languages of fashion. French was always my forte though. I didn’t fully learn Italian until I met Tony and he insisted.”

“A personal stylist. That answers some questions, mainly how Sherlock manages to always wear clothing that suits him.”

You did a terrible job at suppressing a giggle, “He does pretty well on his own, though I’ve found it helps to make sure all his clothes have the potential to match with anything else in his closet he may pick.”

Turning the subject back to languages, he asked, “So what is it about French that you like?”

Furrowing your brow in thought for a moment, you came to a conclusion, “The way it rolls off the tongue so smoothly. It always seems to sound like whispered poetics or soaring melodies.”

“Show me.”

You blushed, “What should I say?”

“Anything.” He said gazing into your eyes.

“Je ne peux penser à aucun autre endroit où je préfèrerais être plutôt qu'ici, maintenant, avec toi.” You offered in a breathy murmur, leaning in so you were only inches from his face.

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine and he responded, “I have no idea what you just said but I think I know why they say that French is the language of love.”

You both were slowly closing the small gap between you and, just before your lips touched, you whispered, “They’re wrong. The true language of love is touch. It’s universally understood and hardly misinterpreted.”

He whispered back, “True,” before pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer to you and his hands went, one to your hip and the other to gently caress your thigh.

You both knew where this was going and you parted from him reluctantly to pull him up and towards his room, stealing more than a few kisses along the way.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The french in here says- I can not think of any place I would rather be than in right here, right now, with you.


	33. LEMON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't even come up with a proper title for this one. Hope it's not too choppy.

(A/N THIS IS A LEMON. If you don't to read it but still want to stick with the story just go on to the next chapter. I promise you wot miss anything important as this is pure smut.)

John pulled you to him as you walked through the door to his bedroom, kissing you deeper than the feather light kisses you’d shared as you had made your way there, and then gave the door a gentle kick shut as you backed up toward his bed. 

You tumbled back, crawling up on to it properly while John pulled off his knit jumper before coming to loom over you, propped up by an arm on either side of your head. You grabbed the front of the button down he’d been wearing underneath and pulled him down to you for another kiss. 

While your lips were occupied, your nimble fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and you shoved it away from his shoulders until he could shrug it off. You ran your hands down his now bare chest, keeping your touch light and teasing, and he groaned, one hand slipping up your shirt with great difficulty. 

You smirked into the kiss before rolling so you were straddling him, quickly ridding yourself of the article of clothing that was giving him trouble before leaning over to kiss him. The lace of your bra brushed up against his bare chest in a way that made him moan into you mouth and his hands came up to get rid of it, wanting to feel the soft flesh of your breasts against him instead. 

The scrap of fabric was soon tossed aside and he flipped you so he could get a better look at you, pinning you underneath him as he took in the sight of your half naked body- your pert nipples awaiting attention, the sharp curve of your waist, the elegant crook of your neck. 

He started there, at the place where your neck met you shoulder, placing a number of gentle kisses along it and your collar bone, nipping at the sensitive flesh every once in a while. You back arched and you let of a soft mewling noise when he hit a particularly sensitive spot and you swore you felt him smirk before he nipped at it again. 

Getting the same response as before, he began to suck at it before biting down on it fully to leave a love bite.  You moaned loudly in response, fingers raking at his shoulders while he left a few more in other places to clearly mark you as his.

He was licking at the most recent one lovingly when you took the opportunity to flip him so you could give him a similar treatment. Your lips fell to his neck before he could even comprehend what was happening, your approach to the love bite not as gentle as his as you clamped your teeth down on the base of his neck. 

He couldn’t help the moan that passed through his lips as the pain mingled with pleasure in the most enjoyable way and your tongue quickly flicked out to sooth it. You leaned back to admire your work proudly and John’s hands ghosted the bare skin of your hips and waist making you shudder. 

You wanted him, all of him, and from the bulge pressing against your thigh he wanted you too. You fingers went to undo the button and zipper of his pants but before you could get any further he rolled and smirked at you as he returned the favor, clearly wanting you to be rid of your bottoms first. 

He balanced himself on his knees pulling your lower half to him so he could tug down your jeans. You gladly helped him, kicking them the rest of the way off once he’d gotten them far enough down before linking your bare toes through the belt loops of his pants to push them away from his form. 

Once they were off and away from him he leaned to nibble at your breast, making you let out a cross between a squeak and a moan as one hand fisted the bedding and the other tangled into his soft blond hair. He briefly fondled your other breast, so as not to leave it out, before letting his hand ghost down your form to fiddle with the edge of your panties and you made a soft sound of approval in the back of your throat. 

He pushed them down, switching breasts as he did so, and, once they were off, he leaned back to drink in the sight of you, lust causing his blue eyes to become dark as though a storm was brewing in a clear blue sky. You smiled up at him softly, the spark in your chest had long since become a roaring flame, and when he gave you a quick grin in return you could see that there was love mingling amongst the lust in his eyes. 

“I need you.” You demanded breathlessly, your hands making their way to the band of his boxers as he chuckled. He aided you in getting them off, revealing his long hard length, and your legs spread wide in anticipation as he rolled on a condom. 

When he was finished making certian you would be protected from his potential baby makers, he leaned over to lay a succession of wanton kisses on your lips as he asked, “Are you sure?” 

You nodded vigorously as he gazed into your eyes, noting that they looked almost amethyst with desire, and he reached to line himself up with your dripping entrance. Your hips bucked against him with want as you felt his tip press into your wet folds but a firm hand against your hip bone kept you from rushing him. 

You panted impatiently, “J-John. Please.” 

A Holmes asking him nicely and with sincerity was so satisfying to him that he quickly granted your request, filling you with his length slowly so you could adjust. You gasped at the sensation, the gentle way he made himself the missing piece to your puzzle. 

You’d never been treated so tenderly before and your heart jumped in your chest when he leaned to pepper your jawline with soft kisses. You turned to catch his lips in a passionate kiss, hoping to convey how much you appreciated him as you tugged at his shoulder to encourage him to move against you. 

He got your message, moving in and out of you in long slow sweeps that pushed deep into your core. He moaned your name loudly as you raked your fingers down his spine and then picked up his pace, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm that you quickly picked up, your hips moving to meet him each time. 

You let out a small cry when he hit the spot that made the world spin out of focus, the ever-growing knot in the pit of your stomach tightening dramatically. Effortlessly, he targeted that spot as he slowed slightly, hitting it every time with impressive accuracy as you tugged at his hair. 

He moaned into your mouth, the vibration echoing through your body and pushing you that much closer to the rapidly advancing edge. He gave a particularly forceful thrust deep into your smooth folds and everything unraveled, Your back arched and he felt you tighten around him, your toes curling as you all but screamed his name. 

As if it was a command he reached his own high as it hit his ears, giving a few last forceful thrusts as he let the warm liquid escape him, moaning out your name in a deep growl. He collapsed on top of you carefully, nuzzling into the crook of you neck as you rode out your highs together. 

When you had come down enough, he slid himself out of you to flop back on to the bed and pull you to him contently, your legs quickly tangling with his as you traced swirls across his chest with fingers as soft and light as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. 

“That was fantastic.” He breathed and you felt your heart flip as you responded, “You were fantastic.” 

His hand came up to tilt your chin up so that he could place a soft kiss on your swollen lips, “We were fantastic.” 

You giggled, snuggling closer into his side and he wrapped his arms around you protectively. You had never been so completely happy as in that moment, listening to his heartbeat as his thumb lightly stroked your arm.  



	34. Three Little Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a night of passion. It’s short but I promise I'll have some more up soon.

You were contently encircled by John’s arms under the covers of his bed, both of you just quietly enjoying the presence of the other and the feel of skin against skin, when he suddenly spoke, “Is it safe to assume you won’t be sleeping on the couch anymore?” 

You nodded.

“Do you still want to move out?” he followed up. 

You shook your head, “And miss out on waking up to your adorable face every morning? I think not.” 

He chuckled, squeezing you to him so he could kiss your forehead, “Good.” 

It went quiet again for a minute and then you turned to rest your chin on his chest so that you could look at him, “John?” 

He brought his chin down so he could see your face and panicked slightly, tightening his grip on you. The expression on your face was similar to the one from when he’d kissed you for the first time, the one that you’d had just before you went completely logic crazy. 

“(F/n) whatever it is we can talk about it. Figure it out together.” He said firmly, praying that wouldn’t happen again, not now. 

You furrowed your brow, “What are you on about?” 

He let out a sigh of relief at your normal response, “I thought maybe- with that look you were giving me- that you were going to go all logical again.” 

You chuckled slightly, wrapping an arm around his waist tightly to reassure him, “The conclusion I came to then still applies- the feelings I get I only get from you because you are uniquely you. I don’t need to test that again.” 

His grip loosened a little, “Oh thank God. What is it then?” 

You fell quiet, focusing on the fingers that were now drawing meaningless designs onto his chest, “It’s just… Nothing. Nevermind.” 

He watched you pull your hand into a fist and tuck it back against your chest, wondering what you could possibly be thinking or if something was wrong. 

You sighed as if coming to some sort of conclusion, “ You’re amazing, you know… and I don’t mean in the sack, though that was seriously fantastic… I mean just you. Everything about you is amazing.” 

He pulled away from you slightly to be able to see you better, “What brought that on?” 

He caught that you were blushing before you ducked you head to try and hide it, “I’ve never been with anyone like you John. I've been in a lot of relationships and I’ve had some really great sex before but never like that… With you it was completely different. Everything is different.” 

He was quiet for a minute as he took that in and then chuckled, kissing the top of your head, “I love you too (F/n).” 

You seemed to relax when he said it and he knew that that was what you had wanted to say all along, you were just having trouble actually saying the words. You tilted your head to look up at him with unsure eyes and he kissed your nose, “It’s alright. I can wait until you're ready to actually say it. Don’t worry.” 

You ducked your head and mumbled, “Sorry.” 

He ran a hand through your hair, “Don’t be. It has to be right for you.” 

You tilted your head back to kiss him and then snuggled deeply into his side in a silent thank you. You gave a small yawn, the kind with the squeak at the end that he had come to love, and he rolled so your back was to his chest. Your bodies fit together perfectly as he nuzzled into your hair and wrapped his arm tightly around you, allowing the slowing rise and fall of your breathing to lull him to sleep.  



	35. The Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to wrap this up guys. Hopefully soon. I feel like its dragged out too long already

John was not a light sleeper. He couldn’t be with Sherlock around or he’d never get any sleep. So when he woke up in the early hours of the morning long before the sun was up he was a little confused. 

He blinked groggily and then flexed his back as he shifted to a new position when he suddenly remembered that you should be there with him. He turned to look for you just as you let out a soft whimper, causing him to come out of his sleepy state slightly. 

You had pushed all the blankets off you and were curled up in ball on the edge of the bed your arms tucked into your chest, obviously distressed by what ever your mind was tormenting you with. He was about to wake you when you sat up with a gasp and then pulled your knees up to your chest to bury your face in them as you took a few shaky but deep breaths. 

“(F/N)?” John called softly and you jumped slightly before lifting your face to look at him, “I’m sorry John. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You flinched when he reached out to pull you to him as he assured, “It wasn’t you love, I was already up. With good timing it seems. Come here.” 

You hesitantly allowed him to tug you down into his arms and he could feel now that you were shaking just enough for it to be noticeable when your body made contact with his. He kissed your forehead as he rubbed your back comfortingly, “Nightmare?” 

You nodded, tucking your nose into his chest as you tried to conceal a soft sob as you recalled it, and he softly soothed, “It’s alright (F/n). You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

He could feel your wet tears against his skin as you began to softly weep and his chest tightened, he didn’t want you to cry. The last time you had cried in front of him had been from exhaustion and complete and total frustration and he got the feeling it wasn’t something you did often. 

You were the type of person that brushed things like that off. Insecure you may sometimes be but vulnerable you were not. There was always a sense of strength behind the things you did and the ways you reacted, like no matter what in the end you would be all right… but right now, with you crying into his chest, it was the exact opposite. 

He wondered what it was that you dreamed about that could get you into this state and how he could help, when you whispered, “It’s supposed to be over John. I don’t understand why I have to keep reliving it. I already have to remember every time I look in the mirror and see my hair.” 

He suddenly knew exactly what you were talking about, what you had dreamed about. You still refused to talk about what had happened to you when you were caught and tortured, though Sherlock often pressed, simply stating that you hadn’t given them what they wanted and in the end that was what mattered. 

He tugged you closer to him as he softly commanded, “Tell me about it.” 

You were quiet for a moment and he thought that maybe he shouldn’t have said that when you quietly responded, “I was never meant to be a spy John… I was damn good at it but it was completely outside my character and they used that against me. The only reason they didn’t get what they wanted was because they underestimated my resolve. 

You paused to take a deep breath, you hadn’t even told Mycroft what exactly had happened and your superiors were content with just a written cursory overview of the methods they used to try and get information out of you so they didn't really know either.

Deciding that you trusted John, a rather large decision in it own right, you shakily continued, “My shoulder was dislocated for four days and let’s just say I had a number of bruises that you and Sherlock never had a chance to see. I-It wasn’t long until they figured out that physical means weren’t going to get them anywhere and they turned to the emotional torture arsenal.” 

Your voice shook as you attempted to continue, “I-I would hear s-screams and they would tell m-me it was Justin. I was too lost to r-realize it wasn’t, in my m-mind every time I refused to t-talk I was c-causing him p-pain. They wouldn’t let m-me sleep and if they did I w-was always woken up after a few hours by a g-gunshot and a p-pistol in my face. I-I couldn’t think straight and that was a point of p-panic within itself. They d-drugged me often. Once they left me in a c-completely dark room for what h-had to be an entire day but seemed like w-weeks...months even.”

John was finally starting to understand why you had trouble sleeping, the guilt you felt, and why you didn’t want Sherlock to know. Your brother would have never left your side again not to mention he would likely hunt these people down and kill them for putting you through that. His arms tightened around you instinctually, he wouldn’t let that happen to you ever again.

He thought you were done, he hoped you were, that nothing else had happened, when you quietly added one last thing, “I don’t know if I accidentally told them or if they had intel on me, but just before Justin burst in they made me stand on the edge of a table blindfolded and told me it was the edge of a building and that they would push me off. I believed them. I hate heights John. My greatest fear is falling.”

He remembered when you had fallen off the chair, the fear in your face, your hand fisting the fabric of his jumper with white knuckles, and realized that you had been truly afraid from just falling off a chair. It must have been absolutely terrifying to think you’d be falling off a building. 

If it was possible for you to get any closer to him, he fixed it then, pulling you to him as his arms tightened around your form, “It _is_ over (F/n). You’re home. Sherlock won’t let anything like that happen to you ever again. I won’t let it happen. You’re safe.”

You were quiet and after a second he pulled away from you slightly, “Look at me (F/n).” 

You wouldn’t at first but then lifted your eyes to meet his, tears still rolling down your face, and he firmly stated, “You are safe and if anything bad ever happens I'll come and save you. Ok?.” 

You sniffled and nodded before snuggling into his side, “Thank you for listening John. I know it’s a lot to take in and that it’s early.” 

He kissed the top of your head, “You can wake me anytime you have a nightmare (F/n). No matter what time it is.” 

You didn’t respond and when he looked down you were asleep, your hand pressed against his heart. John laid awake for a bit longer, thinking about all you had been through and how strong you were, and then swore to himself he’d be there whenever you needed him before drifting off to sleep again.  



	36. Pancakes

John woke up the next morning with his arms still wrapped around you tightly. You looked so peaceful as you softly huffed warm air onto his skin in your sleep. He pushed a strand of hair away from your face and gently traced your cheek, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. 

Shifting from underneath you carefully, he slid a pillow under your head as he got up so you could sleep a bit longer. He quietly pulled on his trousers and jumper from the night before and then ducked out of the room. 

He was in the kitchen when Sherlock came home a little over an hour later, the man hesitantly peeking around the door to make sure he wasn’t going to get reprimanded, and John just chuckled, “ Relax Sherlock. She’s still asleep.” 

He let out a relieved sigh and settled down in his chair just as you emerged from John’s room, wearing his shirt and boxers as you sleepily rubbed at your eyes and gave a small yawn. Sherlock frowned at you as you ruffled your hair and headed to the kitchen, your bare feet padding silently across the flat’s cold floor. 

“Whatever you’re making, it smells fantastic,” you hummed as you wrapped yourself around John from behind. 

He grinned, “Good morning love.”  

He could feel you giggle into his back before you pulled away to get a mug for tea and glanced over to watch you stand on your toes to reach into the cabinet, smirking at the marks, his marks, from the night before that were visible on your skin.  

Just as you pulled the mug down he took it from your hand, “I’ve got it. You go sit.” 

You pouted, “But-“ 

He cut you off with a kiss, “Can’t you just let me spoil you a bit?” 

You gave him a quick peck on the lips and then nuzzled into his neck to kiss the love bite you’d left him, making him shiver, “Fine. Just this once.” 

You swished out to the living room and offered Sherlock a grin as you teased, “Good Morning Sherly. How was your night?” 

He just glared at you and you chuckled, settling into John’s chair with your feet pulled up underneath you. John came out a minute later with a plate and a mug and handed both to you. You blinked at it for a second, before you lips spread into a wide grin, “Pancakes?”

John faltered for a second, “Do you not like pancakes?” 

You giggled, “I love pancakes, it’s been years since I’ve had any. Thank you John.” 

He grinned proudly, glad that his choice had pleased you so much, and Sherlock rolled his eyes, “You two are so obvious.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at him, picking up a pancake with your hand instead of using a fork, “Being obvious is not always necessarily a bad thing.”  

You proceeded to roll it up like a taco so you could dip it in syrup and then eat it, a look of pure bliss on your face as the flavors hit your tongue, and John leaned over to kiss your temple, murmuring, “I’m glad you like it,” before going back to the kitchen. 

Sherlock watched you eat the rest of your pancakes, you looked happier than he’d seen you in a while, since even before you left. The things he’d noticed that night you had allowed him to read you were gone, the corners of your mouth now turning up instead of down and your eyes filled with a sparkle of something new. It pleased him and he reasoned that maybe you were right, being obvious was not always a bad thing.

You were just finishing your last pancake when your phone rang from across the room and you bounced up to answer it with a grin. The conversation was short but when you hung up you had a wide satisfied grin on your face, “I’ve got to go to work.” 

John tilted his head in confusion from his place at the living room table but you offered him no explanation as you quickly placed a kiss on his cheek, “Thanks for breakfast love,” and then placed one on your brother’s, “I’m sorry for kicking you out and thank you for not coming back till now.” 

Before either of them could respond you had disappeared into the other part of the flat and John didn’t dare ask Sherlock what was going on for fear of having his intelligence insulted again. 

You bounced back out less than an hour later, your hair pinned back so only certain curls fell around your face and your face done up with simple yet striking make up. You wore a pair of dark wash jeans under a simple white boat neck sweater and what looked to be one of Sherlock’s dark navy blazers with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the white and blue pinstripe lining. The whole look as finished of with a pair of brown high heeled ankle booties and a teal scarf that you wrapped around your neck before pulling on your usual midnight blue, almost black, outer coat. 

“Is that my blazer?” Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow as you came to look at yourself in the mirror above the fireplace. 

“Mhmm. Most of my things are still at Mycroft’s so I had to improvise. You hardly wear this one anyways.” 

“You could have borrowed one of mine.” John offered and you stopped what you were doing and scowled, “I didn’t even think of that. It would have fit better too.” 

You sighed, “No matter. I don’t have time to change now.”

John tilted his head to accept the kiss you bent to give him, “Thank you love. I’ll wear yours next time. Have a good day.” 

You then made your way to the door calling over your shoulder, “Do try and keep out of trouble while I’m gone Lock.”  

“No promises Key.” He answered with a smirk and with that you were off. 

Over the next two months you felt like you truly had your life back together and that it was quite possibly even better than before. 

Loyal clients flocked back to you once they heard you were back to being a personal stylist again, bringing with them an array of new people who were in need of your services. Life with Sherlock and John was always entertaining and when you had time, which was often as you set your own hours, you joined them on cases. 

You were happy, really truly happy, and any one who knew you noticed, especially your brothers. 

As for John... well you and John couldn’t get enough of each other whether it was going to practice knife throwing at the Yard (which often ended with you pressed up against the cork wall), nipping out to the café or dinner at Angelo’s, or just snuggling on the couch. 

Sherlock had long since accepted your relationship with John as something good for all of you as he and John fought less when you were around and John was almost as protective of you as he was. Almost.

The icing on the cake was that you hadn’t had any nightmares since that night with John, you reasoned that it was because you felt safe in his arms every night and that you had needed to get everything out. 

Life was good. It really was.  



	37. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chugging along over here... just chugging along

It wasn’t long before the weather was slowly starting to get colder as November rolled in. You wished it would snow, you loved snow so much, but it had been a rather warm year so all you got was more rain and cold winds. Not that you didn’t like rain, you loved it as well, but it wasn’t snow. 

This is where John found you one November afternoon, looking forlornly out the window at the greying sky. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder, “I’m sure it’ll snow soon love.” 

You turned in his arms to face him, snuggling into his the crook of his neck as he leaned his cheek on your head, just enjoying him being there. You had been particularly busy with the holidays coming up, and the two of you had had little time to be together alone, until tonight that is. 

You and John had arranged a night off and he was taking you to a small bed and breakfast across town so you could get away from your brother, who you loved dearly but was incredibly nosey. 

He pulled from you reluctantly and scooped up the bag that you’d packed together, “Come on. We should go before Sherlock gets back with something to keep us here.” 

You chuckled taking his extended hand and the two of you escaped the flat for the night. 

You were woken rather early by your phone ringing, John groaning as he unsuccessfully tried to keep you from answering it. The person on the other end practically screamed, causing you to hold the phone away from your ear, calling into it groggily, “Volume Aaron! Please!” 

The voice quieted and you pressed the phone to your ear only for it to slide from your hand as you clamored over John rather ungracefully to grab the TV remote. 

“(F/n) what is it?” John asked, sitting up, but you shushed him, flicking it on to the news with shaking hands. 

Your eyes scanned the images quickly and before John could process it you were already up and pulling on your clothes. 

“Bloody hell.” He swore under his breath before bouncing up to join you and the two of you were quickly on your way back to the flat. 

You ducked under the police tape before anyone could stop you, taking the stairs two at a time with John close behind, and when you got to the top you stopped in the open doorway and let out a relieved sigh. 

“We leave you for one night and suddenly the flat is decimated in an explosion. What ever am I going to do with you Sherly?” your playful tone belied the worry you actually felt as you stepped over to him and carefully took his face in your hands, looking him over for any injuries. 

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not as though I caused it.”  

Seeing that he was absolutely fine, you frowned at him and John pointed out, “Would it have killed you to pick up a phone? We had to find out by telly and (F/n) was absolutely beside herself.” 

Sherlock looked up at you with an expression that you knew was meant to convey his apologies and in response you gave him a light slap up side the head with a playful grin. John sighed, knowing that the exchange was a way of communicating between the two of you that he would likely never understand. 

You spun placing your hands on your hips, “Well my morning’s shot so I might as well get to work on this mess.” 

You enlisted their help in cleaning up the flat as best you could and when that was done Sherlock got a call from Lestrade. You let them go as you had your own work to do in the next few hours and continued to mess with the flat.  



	38. The Pool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed some dialogue from the show so obviously credit where credit is due to BBC and the writers of The Great Game.

You hardly saw either of them over the next few days, as both you and they were in and out of the flat with your work. Sherlock simply left the case files out on the table for you to look over and you would leave him a note if you came up with something particularly interesting. 

This man… this Moriarty was toying with him, you knew that, but, like your brother, you found it extremely intriguing. If he weren’t playing with people’s lives you would have rather liked to meet him, it was rare to meet people with that amount of intellect. 

John and Sherlock waltzed through the door, bickering over the case as usual, just as you were leaving to meet a particularly wealthy client for the first time since you’d left.

In all honesty they were one of your favorites- enough money to let you roam freely in your clothing choices, witty, and fairly stylish even without your help. In fact they used you as more of an errand girl than an actual stylist, as they were to busy with their job to actually go out an get new clothes. Though at the same time, they were appreciative when you brought new unexpected items into their usual wardrobe. 

For this reason you didn’t want to be late. “I have to go and I’ll see you in a bit John.” You rushed, giving John a quick kiss on your way out and completely missing the look on your brother’s face that said you should stay.  

You and John were going to spend the night out seeing a movie, going to dinner, and such and had already agreed to meet up under the London eye a few hours later unless the case got out of hand. 

~~~~Later~~~~

Sherlock Holmes sat at home alone. Nothing had happened for hours and John had gone off to meet you as planned. He had actually rather hoped you’d be with him for this bit as you had just as much of an interest in his new rival as he did. 

Why wouldn’t you? The man was a worthy adversary for any Holmes.  
Sherlock pulled on his jacket and straightened it with a smile. He was going to meet Moriarty and he couldn’t help but wonder what the man had planned. Sherlock had a number of theories but still the likely hood of there being a twist was astronomically high. He shook his head at the thought of it and then made his way to the meeting place, the pool where Carl Powers had been killed. 

He was pretty much ecstatic as he walked into the chlorine-contaminated air that is until he saw John. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be out with you and if he was here where were you? 

The whole thing went rather quickly with Moriarty showing up on the scene shortly and Sherlock pulling a gun. Moriarty was scarily calm as he talked with Sherlock about what happens if he isn’t left alone.

“Oh let me guess I get killed.” Sherlock stated flatly.

“Kill you? N-no don’t be obvious. I mean I’m going to kill you anyway some day. I don’t want to rush it though, I’m saving it up for something special. No no no no no” Moriarty spilled a little comically, “If you don’t stop prying…”

The Irish man paused and his face turned serious and malevolent, “I will burn you… I will burn the heart out of you.”

“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” Sherlock shot back calmly. Few people knew he considered you to be his heart and those that did never spoke a word about it.

“Oh we both know that’s not quite true.” Moriarty replied with a smirk and Sherlock wondered what he meant. He couldn’t possibly be alluding to you.

A short stand down later, Sherlock practically ripped the explosive coat off John when Moriarty was finally gone. Johns knees went weak as Sherlock searched the area and he slid down against a near by wall, stating, “(F/n) is probably going out of her mind with worry by now,” as Sherlock rounded the corner again.

“She wasn’t with you then?” Sherlock asked, letting out the largest internal sigh of relief.

John shook his head, staring at the floor as the shock set in.

As if on cue Moriarty waltzed back in, “It would seem I forgot something. Something very important.”

John’s eyes went wide and Sherlock tried to keep his cool when they saw that he had you in tow. You didn’t seem to be hurt aside from the duck tape across your lips but you were wobbling dangerously and Sherlock reasoned that you’d likely been drugged as you would usually put up a bloody good fight in a situation like this. 

It didn’t help that you were wearing strappy red high heels to match the open back, thigh length red dress you were wearing. If Sherlock hadn’t know better, and he always knew better, he would say you were Moriarty’s date, that was likely the intent anyways. 

He ran a finger down your cheek, “Imagine my surprise when I found my little errand girl was related to you. I always did think her clever. All I had to do was call her up and tell her I needed a new suit. Simple really.”

He smirked at Sherlock, “Oh don’t worry though. I took my precautions.”

His hand trailed down your neck as the other came to rest on your waist as he stood behind you, “So many knives on this one and hidden so well. It was almost a challenge to find them all.”

You mind was so fuzzy but you managed to send a comeback into the tape and he chuckled, “Firey too. Let’s see what she has to say.”

He ripped the duck tape off, steadying you as he did so, “Sorry about that darling. Had to make sure you wouldn’t interrupt while the grown ups were talking.”

You ignored him, stating calmly, “Sherlock take the shot.”

John was already shaking his head and you shot him an apologetic look before leveling Sherlock with a glare that said take-the-bloody-shot-we-both-know-it’s-the-only-way. Moriarty closed the gap between him and your back, “Go ahead Sherlock.”  



	39. Firey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short but hey I just wrote like 5 long chapters in a few hours so I'm ok with it

Sherlock smirked slightly, you were being so obvious that Moriarty missed the look underneath, the one that relayed what you had planned next. 

You very suddenly stopped the wobbling act, tossed your head back into his nose, and then shoved him back so he stumbled, “Shame. That Westwood was one of my best picks yet and with that tie… you certainly looked killer. I guess that’s the price you pay for underestimating a Holmes.”

You had backed up as you said it so you were now standing next to Sherlock. Moriarty was calm as he straightened, letting the blood trickle from his nose as he let out a low chuckle, “It would seem you are just as much fun as your brother. I will enjoy killing you in front of him so very much.”

He looked between you and Sherlock, “This is perfect actually. Here she is for me to do just as I promised- burn the heart out of you.”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked to you for a fraction of a second and Moriarty grinned, “Isn’t that what you said Sherlock? And I quote, ‘You are the one thing that reminds me that all those people are wrong, that I do in fact have a heart. Without you it would cease to exist entirely’?”

You wobbled again, this time for real, as the fuzziness in your head threatened to take over and, just as John made a move to come steady you, the red sniper dots appeared on the each of you.

Moriarty grinned and then shook his head before frowning, “You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t”

You and John both gave a slight nod, and Sherlock targeted the explosive jacket that he’d thrown just feet away from Moriarty minutes before. Everything after that was a blur to you, your vision tunneling in and out as you just barely managed to stay on your feet.

The next thing you knew Sherlock’s hands were on either side of your face and you tried to focus on the fact that he was looking at you with furrowed brows, “Did he poison you? Kheiland it is very important that you tell me what he put in you. Try to remember.”

You furrowed your brow and gave a long blink, trying to think back, “Sedative… Slow acting… Obviously didn’t know I’d been trained…” 

John was up now, standing next to Sherlock and pulling at your eyelids to see your pupils, you wobbled precariously as you tugged away, “Stop that... Now will one of you please get these bloody shoes off me before I topple into the pool?”

Sherlock let out a chuckle, “She’s going to be just fine.”

John pulled you to him and ended up having to literally support your entire weight, not a difficult feat but with both of you standing it was rather awkward. Sherlock gave him a hand, picking you up and pulling you to his chest before walking off so you could all get back to the flat.  



	40. Assurances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last chapter guys. It's been fun.

You came to on the couch back in the flat, blinking at the ceiling a few times before looking down to find John sitting on the floor next to you asleep, his head resting on your thigh. You fixed his hair fondly, running your fingers through the short locks to straighten where it stuck out. 

Sherlock came into the room and you held a finger to your lips so he wouldn’t say anything to wake the obviously exhausted man and then you carefully swapped the leg he was laying on with a pillow that Sherlock quickly handed you. You pressed a quick kiss to John’s temple as you placed a nearby blanket over him and then motioned for Sherlock to follow you to the kitchen. 

Once you were there you turned to face him only to be enveloped in a hug. It took you a moment to reciprocate, you hugged Sherlock often but he was hardly ever the one to hug you, in fact the last time he’d done that was the day you’d returned with Mycroft. 

Winding your arms tightly around your brother you quietly offered, “You worry too much. I think John is rubbing off on you.”  

“You were just drugged and kidnapped. What kind of older brother would I be if I didn’t worry?” 

You chuckled, “The Sherlock kind obviously. Go ahead. Ask.” 

He pulled away from you, worries quelled as his curiosity took over, “Tell me what you remember.” 

You closed your eyes to let your mind zoom back to when you left the house, “I left here to meet him as I always did, in a public place always different but always classy, picking up the suit and some other things I had for him along the way. I knew from the beginning he wasn’t who he said he was but many of my clients use aliases, as do I at times with shadier clients. I used one with him because there was something about him that always tugged at the back of my mind. He knew… Though I don’t think he cared back then, probably never really thought anything of it until he saw me with you. I arrived at the location, a small pub over near Trafalgar, and he seemed happy to see me, offering me a drink and harmlessly flirting as usual.” 

You winced, “I missed it. The fact that he already had the drink when I got there… I didn’t even think twice. How could I have been so stupid? After all this time I considered him a friend. We talked briefly and then I started to feel off and he helped me out to a car. Black Bentley. Newer model with grey interior I think. Maybe tan. I just remember it being light but not white. Then nothing for a while.” 

You ran a hand over your face pushing your mind to recall more, getting some flashes in the middle, “Non specific room. Dark. Lit from the ceiling with a single lamp rather like an interrogation room. I had the dress on by then but no shoes.” 

You frowned when you couldn’t remember how you’d gotten into the dress, it wasn’t something you really wanted to think about, “He came in and knelt to put the shoes on me and then put the duck tape over my mouth. Nothing again and when it cuts back in all I remember is it being dark. I panicked slightly before remembering the training I had with sedatives. Calmed myself and things began to get less fuzzy. He showed up, offered a hand to help me up, and then led me to you.”

You opened your eyes and Sherlock looked to be thinking, “He never hurt you then. Interesting.”  
You nodded, “Very.”

“I doubt this will be the last time we see him.”

“Agreed.”

“Will you be-“

“Joining you full time from now on? Yes. I think that would be best.”

John cleared his throat to get your attention, he’d woken up while you were recounting your experience, and you quickly went to him before he could get up, sitting on the couch to take his face in your hands, “Are you alright dear?” 

He chuckled humorlessly, “I believe I should be the one asking that.” 

You frowned at him, “Do I need to remind you that you were also taken against your will and likely with more force than I was?” 

He reached to remove the hands from his face, “I promised I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you ever again (F/n). I failed you.” 

You shook your head violently, making the world spin a little, and firmly stated, “No John. There wasn’t anything you could have possibly done.” 

He looked at your knees and Sherlock spoke up to validate that statement, “She’s right John. There was nothing either of us could have done. It’s best not to dwell on it.” 

He looked up at you and you gave him a small reassuring smile, “I suppose you’re right.” 

Shifting from the floor to the couch to be able to get a better look at you, he requested, “Promise you’ll tell me if you start to have nightmares again. This was far to similar to what happened to you before.” 

You sighed, “I promise John.” 

Sherlock’s eyes had narrowed, “How come you told him what happened and not me?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Oh I know the great Sherlock Holmes is not asking me an obvious question right now. Deduce your own answer.”  

John smirked and you pointed to him without turning from Sherlock, “Stop that.” 

Sherlock gave his own smirk at the fact that John had gotten in trouble, you swore it was like living with children sometimes, and then simply answered, “I see your point. I still expect you to tell me later but John was far less likely to take any action.” 

You nodded, “Bingo. Now shoo. John’s not through fretting and I would like to talk to him alone for a bit.” 

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and didn’t move, so you sighed, “It’s nothing you don’t already know. I swear.” 

He seemed satisfied by this and left the room. You turned back to John and he leaned in to press a few wanton kisses to your lips as he murmured, “I’m sorry but I’m not letting you go anywhere alone for a good long while.” 

You smiled tenderly, “Worrying so much isn’t good for you love.” 

He shook his head, “I don’t care. I almost lost you tonight (F/n).”

He kissed down your neck and then rested his forehead on your shoulder, you turned to nuzzle your nose into his hair, “It’s only going to get worse you know.” 

He turned to kiss your neck, “All the more reason for you not to go anywhere without me.” 

You rubbed a hand along his back, “Alright. I won’t. Look on the bright side. I doubt Sherly will be shooting the wall again anytime soon.” 

He chuckled, pulling back to look at you, “Fair point.”  

You pressed a hand against his cheek as you leaned to kiss him and then pulled away a few inches to look into his eyes, “I love you John Watson.” 

He was visibly surprised by this, he knew you loved him, you showed him often with sweet gestures and passionate moments, but you’d still never actually said it. You chuckled at his response and kissed his cheek, “Adorable as always.” 

You moved to get up and he pulled you back down so he could press an amorous kiss against your lips. You responded eagerly, pressing him back on the couch so you were on top of him and he smirked, carefully removing himself from you for a moment to look into your eyes, “I love you too (F/n) Holmes.” 

You nuzzled into his neck with a soft giggle and then stood, tugging him up after you. You began to lead him in the opposite direction of his room and he raised an eyebrow, “Where are we going?” 

Turning to take both his hands in yours as you backed up with a mischievous grin on your face, you provided, “To shower. You did say I wasn’t to go anywhere on my own, did you not?” 

He grinned, catching your drift, “I did indeed.”

He wondered briefly if there was actually enough room in the tiny bathroom for the two of you but a swish of your hips made him unable to follow that line of thinking.

He smirked, he would find out soon enough anyways, some things were just meant to be tested.


End file.
